


A Fangirl's Dream (vol. 4): British Spring

by Lady_Angel_Fanwriter



Series: A Fangirl's Dream [4]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Easter, Erotica, F/M, Love, Romanticism, Sexy, Spring, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21795270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter/pseuds/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter
Summary: It's been a few months that Nives has been introduced officially as Richard's partner, but the media interest about her has not yet subsided. The famous actor, busy in USA with the series "Hannibal", invites his Italian girlfriend to spend Easter at his parents', in the small village where he was born...(Remark: I won't post images anymore because they keep disappearing; I'm very sorry because images add "feelings" to the narration, but I'm tired to have to repost them constantly. Thanks for your understanding.)
Relationships: Richard Armitage/Original Female Character(s)
Series: A Fangirl's Dream [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/571402
Kudos: 9





	1. Tuesday, February 15th, 2015

**Chapter I: Tuesday, February 15 th, 2015**

The day after Valentine’s Day, Richard texted Nives a link to YouTube; intrigued, she sat down in front of her PC and looked for it: it was an interview where Richard spoke about his reading of the love poems and there were already thousands of hits. To the question _What is love for you?_ he answered _It’s enlivening. It’s a life force. It’s everything, it lives in your blood. It makes your blood boil. It makes you angry. It makes you sad. It takes away from you. It gives to you. It feeds you. It energizes you. It’s all of those things._ Then he looked at the interviewer and added: _And for me, it’s Nives._

She wept, deeply touched by this public declaration, which now the thousands of people who had already watched the interview had witnessed; and by night, the watchers would be tens of thousands. When she recovered a bit, she texted Richard: _Love is everything. And for me, love is you. You are my all. I love you._

Then, she searched Facebook and opened her favourite page devoted to Richard – its admin Gaia knew that _Princess Dream_ was Nives Nardini and defended her vehemently, along with others – and here she found a post saying _Richard talks about love,_ with a link to Richard’s Twitter account; so she discovered that he had published the interview there, too. Already a great number of _likes_ appeared under that post, as well as comments. They expressed great appreciation and enthusiasm for Richard’s definition of love, some totally ignoring his final declaration about Nives, other ones instead revealing envy in a playful or wistful way, never impolite, as to not arise the admin’s ire, who had stepped up on the post that had called Nives _crap_. Of course, Nives couldn’t know how people were commenting on other pages, groups and forums where she hadn’t signed in, but she couldn’t check all of them, nor she didn’t want to do it.

Following the link to Richard’s Twitter account, Nives read quickly several comments; after Richard had made his stance, with his usual polite firmness, asking his fans to use respectful tones about his private life, including his fiancée, there were no negative remarks about her and, exactly like in the Facebook page, either they ignored his declaration, or they commented it favourably. Then she glimpsed a comment from her friend from Venice Lorraine, who had recently joined Twitter to follow her and Richard, and laughed, because Lorraine said bluntly _If I wasn’t crazy about my fiancé, I’d be very envious of Nives!_ A few people had answered her, agreeing completely, other ones simply said that they would really like to be loved as much as Richard loved his fiancée, and Nives got emotional all over again.

She sent a private message to Lorraine, thanking her, and then they chatted for a long time. Her friend was planning to relocate permanently to Manchester in order to move in with Scott, as they were engaged now for almost three years.

A few hours later, Nives received a text from Richard: _And I love you in the same way, my sweet Italian girl. I so much wish I could be there and tell you in person, holding you in my arms, showering kisses on you…_ Three hearts and several kissing emoticons followed. Once more, Nives wept, deeply touched, and then she laughed: she had never wept with joy as much as she was doing since she was with Richard Armitage. She loved him. More than that, she _adored_ him. He _truly_ was her _all_. The idea scared her, because should something go wrong with their relationship, she would be devastated thousand times more than she had been with Emilio; but she refused to let this thought haunt her and drove it furiously away. She was happy, happy to an inconceivable level, and nothing had to ruin this happiness, not even her herself and her issues, even if they were understandable.

OOO

Two days later, Marlise informed Nives that she had published the interview, giving her the link to her blog; of course, Nives went straight to watch it. There was no views numerator, therefore she couldn’t get an idea about how many people had already watched the interview, but she had no doubt they were a lot. The title Marlise had given to it was _A Fangirl’s Dream_ , from something Nives had said during the interview: when Marlise had asked her how she felt about her relationship with Richard, her answer had been _I feel as if I’m living a dream, the dream of every fangirl: meeting and making her idol fall for her … Never, ever would I have imagined that going to see him live on stage would take me to this point…_ with a following moment where she was clearly deeply touched. In the editing the journalist had made of the footage, a question to Richard followed, about what had been that had drawn his attention on Nives, and he answered _She attracted my eyes like a magnet and I had to force myself to divert my gaze and not getting distracted during the performance… but every break I went to a spot where I could see her and I kept wondering who she was…_

The comments were all very favourable and went from _gosh how disarming she is, I love this woman_ , to _maybe she’s not a stunner, but it’s apparent she adores Richard and makes him happy,_ and from _she speaks English very well_ to _she’s witty and smart, I like her_ ; only one person commented acidly _I still don’t get it what Richard sees in this shabby Italian._ As after all even Nives wondered about it, she didn’t feel insulted at all and, instead, she laughed, thinking _envious, he??_

When she told Lorraine in their next chat, her friend laughed with her and commented that it was only and solely envy.

OOO

A few days later, Beatrice texted Nives _Allakos was born one hour ago! Healthy and gorgeous… I send you a pic through Messenger._

Nives knew that her friend was waiting impatiently for this foal, hoping him to be male because she wanted to give him the name of Nives’ Elven prince’s – Aryon Morvacor – horse, called Allakos. She logged in to Facebook and waited: shortly after, a private message from Hathor Eagle appeared and she hurried to open it: it said _HERE YOU ARE_ and a picture followed of a superb little foal with his mother lovingly caressing him.

_Oh Goddess, he’s SO GORGEOUS!!!_ Nives wrote; she was no expert in horses, but the image was so tender that she felt moved.

_He is indeed! The most beautiful foal I’ve ever seen… and I’ve seen quite a number!_ Beatrice wrote, thrilled.

_Can I send this pic to Richard? He’ll love it!_

_Of course, do it!_

Indeed, the actor complimented the lucky owner of such a fine little Friesian horse and Nives told her friend. When they talked again through Skype, the British actor asked her where the unusual name Beatrice had chosen came from and Nives answered simply:

“It’s the name of my Elven prince’s horse”, then she pondered briefly about how much she could add, and went on, “Know that my protagonist, Nerwen the Green, at a certain point meets and falls for a prince of the Avari Elves, those who live back east in Middle-earth…”

Richard wrinkled his brow in the effort to recall:

“The Avari? They’re the Elves who refused to undertake the Great Journey to Valinor, I think...”

“Precisely... your knowledge of the Tolkienverse is very good”, Nives complimented him.

“Not as good as yours... Of course, this prince returns Nerwen’s love, right?”

“Yes, yes, he hesitates a little at the beginning but then he realises he’s in love”, she assured him.

“Oh good, otherwise I’d enter the story and beat him up...” the actor declared with such a comically fierce air, that Nives burst into laughter, “But tell me, what’s his name? How is he?”

Nives hesitated, but then she told herself that, at this point, it was time to tell him.

“His name is Aryon Morvacor”, she revealed therefore, “and he’s almost one meter and ninety tall – wait, that’s…” she quickly converted to British scale, “That’s 6’2”. And he’s dark haired with sky blue eyes, and wears always black leather...”

She trailed off and held her breath, waiting for Richard’s reaction. Would he realise that it was Guy of Gisborne’s depiction?

The actor nodded thoughtfully:

“Oh wow, he looks like a real piece of work…” he stopped abruptly while a suspicion rose slowly in his mind, “Hum, I have the feeling I know him...”

Nives felt her heart in her throat.

“Actually... yes, you know him, and even well”, she admitted, “Oh come on...” she finally decided to be clear, “He’s your Gisborne!”

Richard’s eyes widened:

“Really? Oh goodness… I’m honoured!”

Nives felt relieved by his reaction and laughed:

“I told you, that I was crazy about him... almost as much as Porter, but he wasn’t suitable...” she stopped because Richard was suddenly grinning, “What?”

The Brit brought his face next to the monitor, a mischievous flicker in his eyes:

“I’m thinking that next time we meet, I might wear black leather...”

A slow smile curled Nives’ lips, and in her eyes appeared the same mischievous flicker:

“Oh? And you’d perhaps use your sword... in the excellent way you are capable to use it...”

It was apparent what kind of _sword_ she was referring to and Richard couldn’t help but burst into laughter:

“I’ll never beat you in this game”, he admitted.

Nives, too, laughed.

“No, I think you won’t”, she confirmed, wiping away one tear of mirth.

“But I’m having too much fun trying”, he affirmed, “and therefore I won’t give up.”

“Woe to you if you do it”, she admonished him, “My mum used to say that laughing together is one of the best things to do, as lovers.”

“Your mum was a very, very wise woman...” Richard declared, “I’m really sorry I hadn’t the chance to meet her. We would’ve surely got along very well.”

“I bet you would”, Nives nodded, a hint of sadness in her heart: it was a shame that her mother had passed without having the chance to see her daughter happy with a wonderful man such as Richard Armitage was; but that’s life.

**Friday, March 6 th, 2015**

On this day occurred Nives’ wedding anniversary, a day that, until the previous year, had weighted heavily on her heart because of the broken promises it reminded her of; but not this time, because she had no reason to feel miserable, not now that she had Richard. Indeed, she realised what day it was only at evening, because she hadn’t thought of it all day.

OOO

A few days later, Nives was chatting with Beatrice; they were talking about _Hannibal_ , the series Richard was filming in Toronto.

_What does Richard say about his current job?_ her friend asked her.

_He likes very much the way they’re developing his character… I still got the chills imagining him as a brutal killer, but he’s enthusiastic about it, as an actor, and this is enough for me to be glad for him. However, I think I won’t be able to watch him…_

_I, too, wouldn’t be able to_ , Beatrice assured her, _I couldn’t watch Lee as Ronan the Accuser, and that was an SF movie, while what Richard is doing could be horribly real…_

They chatted a while longer, then they said good night and went to bed.

**Tuesday, March 10 th, 2015**

“How’s your job going?” Nives asked Richard via Skype.

“I’m getting more and more satisfied with it”, the actor answered, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, “And my colleagues and the crew are wonderful. You know, yesterday Rutina and I filmed a pretty sexy love scene; I was a bit uncomfortable and she noticed it, so she told me _pretend I’m Nives, so we won’t have to reshoot too many times and she won’t be jealous_. I think it was very nice of her…”

He was referring to his colleague performing his character’s love interest; Nives gaped:

“She truly said this?” seeing his confirming nod, she went on, “Well, I’m speechless… she was incredibly kind to worry about me. But reassure her, tell her I know perfectly it’s all a fake and that pretending to make love on set is everything but easy, with all those people watching you, the lights, the cameras moving, the reshoots…”

Richard arched his brow in that way of his that was so incredibly similar to Spock’s.

“Seems like you know a lot about the way these things work… it’s exactly how you said”, he commented. She smiled:

“No, I cannot say I _know_ it, of course, but once I read an interview to an actor I liked very much at the time, and he was talking precisely about a hot scene he had performed for a TV series…”

The Brit pretended to scowl:

“Who’s that man? Shall I become jealous?”

Nives burst into laugher: that was something she had Porter saying in her fan fiction, talking about Dr Who, whom the female protagonist was crazy about; but Richard couldn’t know it.

“Absolutely not”, she reassure him, “I dumped him when I fell for you!”

“Oh, good”, he grumbled, making her laugh again. Of course, he was pretending – or at least Nives thought so, because she couldn’t believe that he could be the jealous half of the couple: after all, she was nobody, _he_ was the one thousands of women idolised, many of them had no hesitations to make him declarations on Twitter, even very risqué ones, despite knowing perfectly he was now officially committed. _Unashamed sluts!_ Nives thought, vexed.

“You know, I’ve received a very interesting job offer”, Richard informed her, changing subject, “It’s a movie called _Pilgrimage_ , an historical thriller set in the Thirteenth Century; I wouldn’t be the main character, but a major one, a Norman knight…”

“A knight?” said Nives, fascinated, “How wonderful! Swords and armours… Any chance I could be hired as the squire helping you undressing…?” she added naughtily. Richard grinned:

“I wouldn’t mind, at all…! We’ll begin filming in April, in Ireland at first, then in Belgium. We’ll be rather close, maybe it’ll be possible to meet again not long after Easter, what do you think?”

“Oh, that would be tremendous… these months without you look endless to me, so if next time is shorter, I’d be truly happy.”

“I’d be, too, believe me…”

**Wednesday, March 25 th, 2015**

“What about a photoshoot with me?”

Nives glanced at Richard, taken aback.

“What?” she exhaled, gawking. He curled the corners of his mouth in his trademark little smile, her confusion, which was transpiring even through the monitor, softening him.

“Yeah, the _Sunday Times_ asked me for a photoshoot about the two of us and our love story”, he explained, “Photos and interview. If you like the idea, we could schedule it for the day you arrive, on Saturday 4th. It’d require about two hours in the afternoon, then by evening we’d be in Leicester at my parents’. You can think about it for a couple of days, I haven’t to tell them immediately…”

“Oh, wow… already the interview with Marlise seemed to me something incredible, now even a photo feature with interview for the _Sunday_ …?” Nives stuttered, overwhelmed.

“It’s the cost of fame… mine”, the actor said softly, “but if you don’t want to do it, you have not to”, he added. He understood Nives’ hesitation: he, too, didn’t like exposing his private life, but sometimes it was necessary to avoid misunderstandings or free nastiness – and she had already had a taste of that. The report on the _Sunday Times_ – greatly renowned and prestigious British magazine of general culture – would place their relationship under a positive and romantic light, as Marlise on her blog had done, with the difference that it was far more influential.

“How long have I to think about it?” Nives asked.

“I promised them an answer on Monday.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know…”

**Friday, April 3 rd, 2015**

At last, the day had come to leave for London; Richard would arrive with the night flight from New York, landing at Stansted at five o’clock the following morning, while Nives would arrive from Treviso the night before. They would then spend the morning together and have lunch; then, in the early afternoon, they would pose for the photoshoot, which Nives had decided to accept to get the British actor’s fandom knowing her a little better and not looking unpleasant or unsocial – and eventually they would head for Leicester, or to be more precise, Huncote, where Richard was born and where his parents still lived.

Sitting while she waited to board the plane that would take her from Treviso to London, Nives was chatting with Lorraine.

_How do you feel about getting a professional photoshoot with Richard?_ her friend asked.

_Don’t make me think about that… I’m absolutely not photogenic, they’ll have to make a lot of Photoshopping with me…_

_But that’s not true, you’re fabulous!_ Lorraine protested.

_No, objectively Lorraine… in photos, I always get dark circles around my eyes, and when I smile, one eye becomes smaller than the other one, and my teeth are uneven…_ Nives sighed.

_Would you please stop it with your uneven-teeth-thing??_ Lorraine scolded her, _They’re characteristic to you! Like a beauty spot or a piercing, after a while nobody sees them anymore because they’re part of you._

_But in his world, aesthetics counts very much and I’m not up to it…_

_You’re no photographic model… so_ what _? You’re an absolutely normal woman who had the incredible chance to become the fiancée of a famous actor… who first thing first is a wonderful man._

_On this last thing, I totally agree with you… Well, let’s hope that the Armitage Army will be lenient with me._

_If they don’t, tell them to bugger off!!!! If they speak ill of you, it’s because they’re dying of jealousy, so they only deserve you kicking their sorry arses!_

Nives chuckled, grateful for the support she was receiving from her friend; she felt a little bit cheered up. At that moment, she heard calling for the boarding and so she quickly said goodbye to Lorraine, then she turned off her mobile and boarded the plane, taking her seat. Punctually at 22.30 the plane took off and, a little more than two hours later, at 23.40 local time, it landed at Stansted. From here, Nives took a taxi and headed for the hotel Richard had booked, the Radisson Blu, a five-star-hotel where she was welcomed with great deference; while she was waiting for them carrying out the usual formalities and for the porter to come and take her luggage to her room, they brought her a fruit juice, which she gladly accepted.

As she went upstairs to her room, Nives found out that Richard had booked a suite; feeling the classic country girl in front of a luxury she wasn’t used to, she moved across the small apartment, admiring its elegant furniture and the fine furnishings, as well as the soft light grey fitted carpet with big red flowers printed on it.

Shaking her head, amused by her own provincial marvelling, Nives took her beauty case and headed for the bathroom to freshen up; she was about to put on her nightwear, when she was caught by a very, very naughty idea…

**Saturday, April 4 th, 2015: morning**

It was six o’clock in the morning. Richard opened the door to the suite and entered, trying his best not to make any noise. True, he had promised Nives he would awake her lovingly with a kiss, as soon as he had arrived, but he wanted to take a shower before this: even if he had been flying first-class, over seven hours travelling were still a lot. And besides, he had noticed how much Nives loved his sandalwood perfume… and he liked to be liked by her. Therefore, leaving his suitcase in the living area, he removed his shoes and opened very quietly the door to the bedroom; he tiptoed in, trying to detect where the bathroom was located; as he found out, he turned off the light in the living room and headed blindly for the bathroom. Once inside, he turned on the light, removed quickly his clothes and slipped under the warm spray. Soaping and rising required only a few minutes, then he dried off; he considered shaving, but he already did it before leaving and, scrubbing his face, he didn’t feel any grazing, so he let it be. He used a small amount of sandalwood lotion on his chest, then he exited without dressing, leaving the door open so he would see with the help of the slant of light coming from the bathroom. He discerned the bed and Nives’ shape, lying on her side facing the bathroom, as usual. He rounded the bed and slipped very quietly under the duvet; smiling, he got near Nives and surrounded her with his arms… finding out she was naked.

“Aaahhh…” a pleased sigh escaped him. He glued his body to hers and his virility brushed the soft curve of Nives’ derrière. He felt a thrill; he caressed leisurely her hip, then he moved on her front, on her belly, sneaking up to her breasts. He cupped one, brushing slowly its nipple; leaning over, he placed a trail of kisses from her shoulder up to the curve of her neck.

Nives emerged from her sleep and felt Richard’s hands and lips on her. Instantly, she felt a deep shudder, in her body as much as in her soul, and uttered a sighing moan.

Hearing her, the actor whispered:

“Good morning, sweetheart…”

His hot breath in her ear made her shiver.

“The best in the world…” she murmured; she turned in his arms and clasped his waist, clinging to him with the whole length of her body. Richard kissed her; feeling her parting immediately her lips, as much impatient as him, he groaned and thrusted his tongue into her mouth, seeking hers to engage in the sensual dance both loved. Knowing how much she liked it, he moved his hands on her back in an exciting caress, up to her neck and all the way down to her buttocks. He pulled her to him and she, feeling his masculinity pushing against the centre of her body, lifted one leg and bent it, placing it over his thigh and offering him full access to her intimacy. 

For too long deprived of Nives, Richard almost lost his head; he rubbed himself against her opening, almost entering, but he restrained himself at the last second: as much as he was craving her, he wouldn’t take her until she, too, was ready.

Feeling him rubbing precisely her most sensitive spot, Nives moaned into his mouth. She had had her difficulties to fall asleep, a slave to a hot desire for him, worsened by many weeks abstinence and by the prospect of meeting him in just a few hours; that was the reason why she had decided to sleep in the nude, something she never did without Richard in bed with her, not wanting to lose even one second to get rid of her clothes and make love with him.

Now tremors and shudders were shaking her so hard that she thought she was going to explode; the heat between her legs was unbearable. She withdrew from Richard’s lips to moan:

“Enter _now_ , love… I’m _dying_ to feel you inside of me…”

“Nives… oh baby…” he babbled. It was impossible resisting to such a heartfelt and explicit invitation, but he managed to keep a glimpse of self-control, enough to touch her with his fingers and make sure she was really ready for him; ascertained it, he felt reassured and so he rolled over her. Nives surrounded his hips with her legs, as eager as she didn’t recall having ever been in her life, and welcomed him in her body with a sob of pleasure and relief.

“Oh Goddess, Richard… it’s wonderful…” she sighed.

“ _You_ are wonderful… so hot, so _right_ …” he gasped; he kissed her neck, then he propped on his arms to thrust himself even deeper inside of her, with the exact incline he had learned she liked most and that was very stimulating for him, too. He liked to make love to her slowly, to make it last longer, but after three months of complete fast, they were both too hungry for one another to wait. There would be time for it later.

Nives opened her eyes, which she had irresistibly closed, and looked at Richard in the light coming from the bathroom door he had left ajar. Their gazes met, sparkling with passion, emotion, ecstasy, reflecting mirror-like into one another, and never left.

The covers slipped down Richard’s back while he moved above and inside Nives at an increasing rhythm; she responded thrust by thrust. Pleasure invaded them irresistibly, uncontrolled and wild, rose vertiginously and shortly after exploded in a simultaneous climax that obscured everything around them. While Richard arched his back, groaning overwhelmed, Nives’ lips formed an astounded “O”, but no sound came out, because she was literally breathless.

When the convulsions of their orgasms had subsided, he slowly eased himself back on her and kissed her lips.

“I missed you so much…” Nives whispered. Richard curled the corners of his lips in the trademark grin she adored.

“I noticed it…” he replied jestingly; she stuck out her tongue to him, making him chuckle, “And I missed you”, he added.

“I noticed it!” Nives threw him back laughing, “I think I never… hum… _arrived_ so quickly… How long did it Iast, two minutes?”

“No idea… it was so intense that I completely lost track of time”, Richard confessed, visibly thrilled, “That’s a first, for me…”

“For me too”, she admitted, equally thrilled, “I think it’s wonderful sharing things we never experienced before…” she added in an undertone, a little shyly. He caressed her cheek, looking tenderly at her:

“Yes, you’re right, it’s wonderful”, he agreed, then he kissed her sweetly, “ _Ti amo tanto_ ” (*) he whispered on her lips, in Italian.

“ _Anch’io ti amo tanto… tantissimo_ …” (**) she answered in the same language, kissing him in turn.

(*) I love you so much

(**) I, too, love you so much… so very much…

Author’s note:

I have no idea if Richard’s birth family still lives in Huncote, but I liked the idea of setting this “episode” of my fan fiction in a small English village, so I did it.


	2. Chapter II: Saturday, April 4th, 2015: afternoon and evening

**Chapter II: Saturday, April 4 th, 2015: afternoon and evening**

To be together as long as possible before departing for the photoshoot, shortly after 1.00 p.m., Richard had booked a late checkout. For the same reason, Nives suggested a brunch, the crossover between breakfast and lunch they had adopted in Cortina, so they would take a break from their delicious activities between the sheets only at the very last minute. Richard had no objections at all; he called the room service to fetch them their meal at 11.30 a.m.

When they got up to dress, have their brunch and then leave, Nives took a packet out from her suitcase and smiling handed it to Richard. He guessed instantly what it was and accepted it with a thrilled smile; as soon as he opened it, he realised he had been right: it was the bracelet she had showed him through Skype, his present for Valentine’s Day. He took it and stared at it from every angle: it was beautiful, with an unusual chain.

“It’s superb”, he said in a low voice, repeating what he had said when he had glimpsed it the first time; he fastened it around his wrist, then he pulled Nives into his embrace and kissed her tenderly, “I won’t take it off, ever”, he declared, making her smile happily.

While eating, Nives expressed a certain concern about her looks:

“Makeup and hair... how am I going to do that? I’m no pro...”

“Don’t worry, we’ll have a beautician and a hairdresser”, the actor reassured her. As for their dress style, they had opted for something informal: Nives had been the the one deciding it, knowing that Richard went for jeans and t-shirt rather than for elegant outfits. For herself, she had brought the black jeans he had so much appreciated in Venice because they highlighted her hourglass-shaped figure, and an emerald green shirt with a white hibiscus printed on the front, which she had purchased during her stay in Hawaii three years earlier. When he saw her ready, with her hair pulled back in a simple, high ponytail, Richard smiled at her:

“You’re lovely”, he declared, “You look like a teenager, like the day we went to Windsor, or in Venice.”

Indeed, she sported a very light makeup, knowing that later they would professionally make up her face at the photo studio.

She glanced at him from foot to head, observing his blue jeans hugging his long legs and his white V-necked t-shirt revealing his brawny arms – which she adored feeling around her – up to his hair, very short because of the character in the series he was currently shooting, and said lively:

“You too!”

Indeed, he absolutely didn’t look 43, but at least ten or twelve years younger.

Finally, they went down to the hall and checked out; Richard signed also the documents to the car he had rented through the hotel, a station wagon that would easily carry their baggage along with them.

Forty minutes later, they were in front of the Ashworth Photography Studio, on the outskirts of Cambridge, the town famous for its university that, along with Oxford – where JRR Tolkien, Nives’ favourite author, had taught for so long – constantly competed for the title of most prestigious college of the United Kingdom.

“Welcome!” a blonde woman around forty greeted them, “I’m Eva Ashworth. Please, come in.”

The woman – who was the owner of the studio, as well as the photographer who would perform the photoshoot – led them directly to the prep room, where she introduced them to Bryan Hawks, the _Sunday Times_ reporter who would interview them after the shoot, which he would attend as a spectator.

Eva invited Nives and Richard to take their seats. The makeup artists arrived and got busy, doing their hair and putting on their makeup for the photoshoot, Richard just a little powder to matt the shiny areas of his face, Nives up to the nines, but keeping a simple look matching her casual outfit.

When they were ready, Eva led them on set, where a couch covered in hazel suede awaited them; she invited them to sit and make themselves comfortable.

“I like capturing the essence of my models”, she said with a smile, “and knowing their background helps me. As this is about your love story, I did my research, but I found only an article on _The Anglophile Channel_ blog. Is there something else you could tell me?”

“I don’t know, Miss Ashworth”, Nives answered, uncertain, “What would you like to know, for instance?”

The photographer signalled to an assistant that he had to move a spotlight to illuminate the set in a better way.

“First thing first, call me Eva”, she told her affably, “Let’s relax... no formalities! How did you get to know Richard?” she asked then, “Not when you met in London, earlier”, she clarified.

Therefore, Nives told her about when she had gone to see _The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey_ and encountered Thorin Oakenshield’s eyes on screen, feeling bewitched, later realising she had already seen the actor in the role of Guy of Gisborne but she hadn’t heeded him because he was playing a baddie. Her eyes sparkled in amusement and Eva quickly shot her several photos, aiming to catch her mirth.

Then she moved to the actor:

“Tell me, Richard, what was it precisely that made you decide wanting to get to know Nives better, on that night at the theatre?”

Richard could hardly tell her about the odd feeling that had caught him while sitting on the place where, months later, Nives would sit, so he decided for a more acceptable version, but equally romantic.

“I think I realised she was the woman of my life the moment I laid my eyes on her”, he declared, “seated in the first row with that stunning outfit: red satin and lace skirt and a romantic white corset that the spotlight highlighted greatly whenever it came near her...” he smiled, “I have never had a harder time staying focused on my character”, he confessed. Eva shot a row of photos.

“I was wearing super high stilettos that made me go through hell!” Nives laughed, now relaxing for good: she liked this photographer, as she was sociable and kind.

Eva chuckled at that candid confession.

“So you’re not very used to them... Talking about shoes, why don’t you take them off? Putting your feet on the couch, and hugging as if you want to cuddle?”

They gladly followed her suggestion; Richard gathered Nives into his arms, looking into her eyes and smiling at her. She lost herself in those stunning ice-blue irises, which at the peak of passion became scorching like incandescent lava; she forgot about the photographer and returned his gaze and smile. Eva took numerous shots, pleased.

More photos followed, some with Richard holding Nives, others with Nives holding Richard, others still with both lying on the sofa, he behind her with his arms around her. Eventually, Eva asked if they were willing to pose for an almost-kiss; Nives glanced at Richard, unsure: she knew well he was a quite private person and therefore she preferred leaving the decision to him; she remembered that not even at the London première he had kissed her in the public eye. Unexpectedly, he said instead:

“It’s okay for me, if it’s okay for Nives, too...”

Caught by surprise, she needed a moment before answering:

“Oh... of course, yes...”

Following the photographer’s directions, Richard cupped Nives’ cheeks, almost like when, in _North and South_ , he had kissed the female lead character at the end of the last episode, and drew slowly near her lips. Involuntarily, Nives’ gaze dropped to his mouth and she lifted her face to meet him. Eva shot repeatedly, delighted by her spontaneity: Richard was an accomplished model, but she had expected his fiancée being rather awkward in front of a camera, as usually were non pros, so she was glad that Nives had proved a natural.

In the end, satisfied, she finished her job and left them with Bryan Hawks, who had observed the photoshoot with quiet interest.

“You’re truly a gorgeous couple”, the _Sunday Times_ reporter began, truthfully, “Not only in looks, but especially because it’s apparent that you’re madly in love with each other... Tell me, Nives, how is it, being Richard Armitage’s fiancée? Did it turn your life upside-down?”

“Definitely yes”, she admitted, “I never dreamt of getting into the media... blogs, magazines, newspapers... Good thing I’m on the different social media with a nickname, besides, my profiles are very private and only my friends can see them, and this protects me a little from the spotlight. I’m just an ordinary person, not a celebrity... I have great respect of the Armitage Army, to which I anyway belong, and I realise that there’s a great deal of curiosity about me, therefore I think it’s just fair to introduce myself somehow...” she sighed, “I’ll never be able to live up the expectations of Richard’s fans, but I hope they won’t be too hard on me...”

“Don’t say that...” Richard began protesting, but she raised one hand to stop him:

“No, it’s just the simple truth: they love you and would like for you the most fantastic woman in the world, the most beautiful, the smartest, while I am... well... _normal_ , surely too much to meet their approval...”

“Your assertion tells me you’re a very modest person”, Bryan commented, struck, “perhaps even too much, because I’m sure that, should you truly be _normal_ meaning _banal_ , Richard wouldn’t have noticed you, and even less he would’ve fallen for you...”

He cast a meaningful glance to the actor, who took the prompt and said forcefully:

“Nives is anything but _banal_ , I can assure you”, he smiled because of what he was going to say, “Once I professed in an interview that I was looking for four qualities, in a woman: I wanted her capable of auto-irony, of enjoying food, of taking life not too seriously and of being a little naughty. Well, Nives is all these things and even more: she’s the most brilliant, humorous, sweet and strong creature I ever met...” he looked at her with a gaze so full of love that she felt literally like melting, “Therefore, I can reassure the Armitage Army that she absolutely lives up to _my_ expectations, so I think she will live up also to theirs.”

“Bold claim...” the reporter objected. Richard turned his gaze to him with a quiet but resolute expression:

“Maybe; but as I always felt supported by my fans, I’ve got no doubts that they’ll support me even this time, no, I think _especially_ this time, as it involves something so very important to me, that is, my relationship with the woman I love.”

Hearing this public statement, tears welled up in Nives’ eyes and she turned her head, trying to conceal her emotion; but Richard perceived it and brushed her hand, then he raised it to his lips. Bryan, even if he was a veteran in his job and therefore very experienced, was touched by this manifestation of genuine feelings and solidarity.

The interview lasted about half an hour, then the journalist said goodbye and left the set. While putting on again their shoes, Richard asked:

“So, did you like the interview, and posing for the photoshoot?”

Nives appreciated that he wanted to know if she had felt comfortable.

“Very, both things”, she answered sincerely, smiling, “You know, I was thinking that I’d like to have one those photos to make an enlargement and hang it back home: do you think that’s possible?”

“What a great idea!” Richard approved with enthusiasm, “I like that. Yeah, I think that’s possible, but probably we’ll have to wait the publication of the service – you know, because of the exclusive. Meanwhile, I’ll ask my agent to send the request to the _Sunday_ ”, he concluded, “I do it at once, so I’m sure I won’t forget about it”, he added, grabbing his mobile. He talked shortly to Ronald, who was none other than the agent who had acted as a go-between when Nives had sent the pictures she had shot in Windsor to Richard, the day after the end of _The Crucible_. Ronald said he would take care of it immediately, getting in touch with the editorial office of the famous magazine.

Leaving the set, they met Eva, who was waiting for them in the hall, and thanked her for the photoshoot. After saying their goodbyes, they returned to their car and Richard got again behind the wheel. Checking on the satellite navigator, he announced they would need a couple of hours to get to Huncote.

The rest of the trip passed quickly as they chatted and laughed, but as they approached their destination, Nives became increasingly tenser. Shortly she would meet again Richard’s parents and she felt a little inadequate, even if they had treated her very friendly in London. Maybe she shouldn’t have chosen a casual outfit, she thought, but a more elegant one... after all, it was Easter Eve; but when she and the British actor had decided how they should dress for the photoshoot, she hadn’t thought that afterwards she would have no opportunity to change. She sighed: she hoped with all her heart to confirm the friendliness Mr and Mrs Armitage had shown her. With her first parents-in-law, she had been lucky: they had welcomed her favourably and had quickly grown attached to her. The fact she was five years older than their son hadn’t troubled them, or she had never been under this impression; this time, she was again the elder half of the couple, but she hadn’t had the courage to tell not even Richard. She had always meant to inform him, but for one reason or another, the topic had never surfaced.

She tried not to upset Richard with her nervousness, but she realised she had failed when, at a certain point, he grasped her hand and, without uttering a word, he squeezed it, as he always did when he wanted to hearten her. Grateful, she returned his squeeze. As long as he was by her side, she would truly fear nothing.

They arrived at Huncote around five thirty. When Richard turned into the Armitage’s driveway, Nives felt her heart jumping to her throat, but tried to control it; he got off the car and she waited for him to open the door, as she had learned to do because he liked behaving like the perfect gentleman.

While they were unloading their baggage from the car, the front door opened and John Armitage appeared on the threshold; he walked to them, beaming. Richard saw him and walked to him in turn with an equally wide beam; they hugged and Nives heard the elder man saying in a moved tone:

“Welcome back home, son.”

Richard pulled back and walked his father to Nives.

“Welcome, Nives”, John said smiling, “I’m glad to see you again.”

“I, too, am glad to see you again, Mr Armitage”, she answered, shaking hands with him; she was still rather nervous, but John’s smile was as genuine as his son’s was and this reassured her, “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks, you too?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

John nodded, then showed them the front door:

“Please, come in.”

They headed for it; leaving their luggage in the hall, they entered the sitting room, finding Margaret Armitage while placing a large tray on the coffee table, with a teapot and four cups. The elderly woman straightened and smiled in welcome; Richard hurried to hug her, then she moved toward Nives.

“Hello Nives, how nice having you here!” she smiled, shaking warmly hands with her.

“Thank you, Mrs Armitage… and it’s nice for me being here”, Nives reciprocated her; Margaret’s light blue eyes – very alike her son’s – were definitely friendly and she felt her nervousness lessening even more.

Richard noticed her smile relaxing and was pleased.

“Come on, take a seat”, Margaret invited them, “the tea’s getting cold… Nives, Richard told me you specially like _Earl Grey_ , so I thought I’d make some.”

Nives gaped: she had named it only once to Richard and was now amazed he remembered it; but she was even more amazed that her _mother-in-law_ would want to honour her this way.

“That’s too kind of you, madam”, she murmured as they took their seats; she received back a smile.

“John, could you please go and fetch the scones?” Margaret asked.

“I take care of that, mom”, Richard offered; he returned shortly after with a tray full of the sweet rolls, similar to _brioches_ , a Scottish speciality very appreciated throughout the United Kingdom, both in the sweet and in the savoury variety.

“Knowing you like cocoa as much as Richard, I made these scones with dark chocolate chips”, Margaret said proudly, looking at Nives. Again, the Italian woman was speechless.

“You’re spoiling me, madam…” she managed finally to smile truly spontaneously, “Thank you… you’re right, I _adore_ chocolate!”

Richard had already grabbed a scone; he bit into it greedily and his mother pretended to scowl:

“Hey, don’t be rude! Offer one to Nives first…”

“Your scones are too good…” the actor justified himself with his mouth full; seeing him playing the big boy and being therefore reprimanded by his mother, Nives started laughing heartily, her nervousness dissipating even more, while John joined her in her laugh.

Richard cast them a fake dirty look, then sitting next to his fiancée on the couch, he offered her the tray, giving her a wink to encourage her. She thanked him with a smile and took a scone, biting into it.

“Delicious!” she commented with genuine pleasure: the chocolate chips scattered throughout the soft dough were crunchy and tasty.

“Thank you”, Margaret answered, pouring the tea into the cups, “Please, help yourself… lemon, milk, sugar, whatever you like best.”

As usual, Nives had it plain, like Richard, while John added sugar and lemon, and Margaret milk.

“So, how was your flight?” John asked.

“Excellent”, Richard answered, “I slept soundly on the plane, so I was in London before I knew it.”

John looked at Nives quizzically and she answered:

“Oh well, it was just a two-hour flight for me. I arrived late yesterday night, but I could go immediately to sleep, so this morning I was well-rested.”

She felt her cheeks burning, thinking about the sweetly erotic awakening Richard had given her, but neither John nor Margaret seemed to notice it.

“And the photoshoot? Did you like the experience?” Margaret asked Nives.

“Pretty much… The photographer was very patient with me, I’m not used to these kind of things.”

“No, it’s you who have been good at it”, Richard contradicted her, “You’re a natural, Eva said.”

“But they’ll need much retouching with me, as to not make me look too bad compared to you”, Nives replied, “Maybe I’m a natural, but I’m not photogenic… I always get bags under my eyes”, she chuckled with her usual auto-irony, “Thank goodness there’s Photoshop!”

“Stop it”, Richard said emphatically, “Or, when I meet your father, I’ll tell him you’re not satisfied with his job and I don’t think he’ll be pleased…”

Recognising her own words, Nives shut up with a comical grimace that had everyone laughing.

“He gave you a taste of your own medicine”, Margaret giggled, genuinely amused.

At last, Nives relaxed for good and enjoyed tea, sweets and company; Richard detected it and was happy: he had been sorry that she could feel uneasy, even if he knew that it was normal. He, too, was definitely going to feel nervous, when he would meet Luigi, Nives’ father.

Later, Richard accompanied his fiancée upstairs to sort out their luggage; looking at the bed – a queen size – Nives considered:

“We’re going to be a little cramped on it…”

Richard looked sideways at hers with an expression on his face that made her stomach flutter.

“Why, do you mind?” he asked her in a low voice.

“Not at all”, she murmured, in an allusive tone that made _his_ stomach flutter, “I use the bathroom right away, so I can take off a little _stuff_ from my face!” she then announced humorously, “I’m fine being cleaned up nice for a big night, or for a photoshoot, but at home, better not…”

He liked it, that she had described the situation with such easiness, almost as if it was _her_ home.

When she had taken off almost all the makeup, leaving only mascara and eye pencil, Nives sent a text to his father announcing him she had arrived to the Armitage’s and had received a wonderful welcome from Richard’s parents. Luigi answered a few moments later, writing he was glad and asking her to say hello to everyone, even if he didn’t actually know anybody. It was typical of him: grumpy only apparently, but then he was always very kind to everyone.

Meanwhile, Richard had wiped out the remaining powder used for the photoshoot; when the returned into the room, Nives passed on Luigi’s message, and the actor asked her to say hello in return when the chance would arise.

They went downstairs, where they found John in the sitting room.

“Richard didn’t tell us about any peculiar food requirements from your part, Nives”, the elder man said, after they had taken their seats, “Please, don’t hesitate if there’s something you cannot or don’t like to eat, okay?”

“Luckily enough, I’ve got no food problems, Mr Armitage”, Nives reassured him, “I eat anything and I’m very curious to try new things”, she saw him nodding, pleased, “Where’s Mrs Armitage?” she then asked.

“She’s making dinner”, John infirmed her, “She adores cooking and, under the pretext of having guests, she prepares all sorts of delicacies.”

“Well, then she’s like me”, the Italian woman smiled, “I, too, adore cooking and when I have guests I make everything and more.”

“I know a thing or two of that!” Richard laughed, “Dad, you need to know that during our holyday in Cortina Nives spoiled me quite shamefully… I gained over 6 and a half pounds”, he concluded, grumbling in such a _Thorin-esque_ way that both John and Nives laughed.

They chatted until Margaret came announcing that dinner was almost ready.

“I take care of setting the table”, Richard told her, standing up.

“I’ll help you”, Nives offered immediately, rising in turn.

Twenty minutes later they were all sitting, tasty baked salmon in their dishes, along with mashed potatoes and peas with butter; John arrived with a carafe full of pale beer.

“In your honour, Nives, I was planning to serve white wine for a drink”, he said, “as in Italy you are used to wine, but Richard dissuaded me by telling me that, as we’re going to eat English-style, you would rather _drink_ , too, English-style; that it, beer”, he concluded, raising the carafe.

“Precisely!” Nives confirmed, “I think that matching typical food with typical drink is the best… but anyway, thank you for considering it, Mr Armitage”, she added, moved by all the care she was receiving from her _parents-in-law_.

Her answer pleased John, who smiled at her and poured beer to everyone, sitting then down and raising his glass:

“Cheers!”

“Cheers! To our health!” his table companions answered, clinking their glasses to one another. Nives tried the beer, a light lager with medium alcohol content, and found it to her liking. Then she recalled something funny and chuckled.

“What’s up?” Richard asked smiling, intrigued by her hilarity.

“I remember years ago in Scotland”, Nives told them, “during a package holiday… At a certain point we stopped at a small fisher town in the north – I don’t remember the name – which specialty is oyster. I had never tried it before, so when we went to lunch, I ordered half a dozen, asking for advice about the beer; and the waiter, guessing I was Italian, suggested me a Stella Artois, which is a Belgian beer I easily find in Italy. I glared at him! _Hey, no_ , I said, _I mean a Scottish beer!_ His face lit up and then fetched me a Tennent’s Ember, absolutely perfect with oyster…”

“You like food, as much as my son”, Margaret smiled with real warmth. Richard’s eyes sparkled in amusement:

“Actually, that’s one of the things that made me fall for her”, he revealed. Nives pretended to be indignant:

“Really? And I thought it was for my brilliant mind…!”

“That, too”, he promptly replied, “as well as your encyclopaedic culture and your strong sense of humour… and of course”, he added, smiling at her, “your sweet chocolate eyes.”

Nives blushed rose-red and looked as if she was about to melt on the spot. Margaret, who was watching her closely, thought that, should she still have doubts about the sincerity of her feelings for her son, at that very moment they would dispel: it was crystal-clear that this Italian girl was madly in love with Richard.

Margaret’s eyes searched for her husband, seated across her: they, too, had been young and in love like the younger couple. They smiled at each other, understanding each other with no need of words: after almost fifty years of marriage, verbal communication was often unnecessary.

After finishing dinner, Nives insisted on helping Margaret clearing the table, insisting that if she wasn’t allowed to, she would feel embarrassed; her host couldn’t but accept graciously.

While the two women were in the kitchen, busying themselves with the dishwasher, John invited Richard to go back and relax a bit in the sitting room.

“You chose a truly fine girl”, he older man declared, looking at his son, “and I’m not talking only about her appearance: you can easily see she’s an amazing person and that she loves you madly.”

“And I love her madly in return”, Richard assured him in a low voice, “I’m in love like I’ve never been before.”

“It took you a lot of time, son”, John smiled affectionately, “I was luckier: I met your mother when I was twenty and I never left her since…”

“As much as I will never leave Nives”, the actor affirmed, “precisely and especially because it took me so long to find her.”

John nodded:

“I believe you… but it’s going to be hard, for the two of you, because of the distance and your job.”

“I’m aware of it”, Richard nodded, “and so is she; but should my job interfere with my relationship with Nives, I’ll slow down the pace. Now I have what I wanted, the worldwide success, and should I make even only just one movie a year, I would keep my popularity high all the same.”

“Or maybe you’d keep it high just because of it”, his father observed, and at his raised eyebrow expressing perplexity, he explained, “If you’re less present, your appearances will be more precious and appreciated, won’t they?”

“That could certainly be”, Richard admitted, “but before, I’d like to consolidate my position a little more. This year I won’t slow down for sure, but if necessary, I’ll do it starting from next year.”

“Are you considering setting up home in Italy?” John enquired, but at that moment Nives came in, therefore Richard couldn’t answer; he was relieved, because he didn’t know how to do it, as he hadn’t thought about it yet.

“Coffee?” he asked, raising, “Nives, if you prefer some tea…”

“No, coffee’s alright, thank you.”

Richard grimaced:

“I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for English-style coffee: we’ve got no Italian coffee-pot nor an espresso coffee-maker…”

“Oh, that’s okay”, she answered with a reassuring gesture, “The saying goes _In Rome you do like Romans_ …” she noticed she had translated it literally, “Hum, I don’t know how you say that in English…”

“Almost the same”, John laughed, “ _When in Rome, do as the Romans do_.”

Nives laughed in turn:

“It’s quite rare that a proverb in one tongue sounds similar in another tongue”, she observed, “When you translate literally, the result is usually hilarious”, she added humorously.

She sat down, while Richard headed for the kitchen; shortly after, Margaret joined Nives and John and sat next to her husband.

“Richard threw me out of the kitchen to make some coffee”, she said in an amused tone, then she turned to Nives, “For tomorrow, I chose an ancient recipe from the Cotswolds (*): cooked ham baked with apricot sauce, and whole potatoes with bacon and cheese, and fried spinach.”

“Sounds very appetizing!” Nives commented.

“Do you eat particular food for Easter, in Italy?” John enquired, curious.

“Traditionally, we go for lamb or kid”, Nives answered, “which I usually bake in the oven and serve with _polenta_ ”, she wondered how she could translate the last word in English, but it was impossible, therefore she described the specialty, “That’s kind of a porridge made with cornmeal, typical of my area.”

At that moment, Richard came in with the coffee and heard her; he grinned:

“That’s yet another thing I must absolutely try, next time I come to Italy”, he placed the tray on the coffee table and sat beside Nives, “Best thing ever, for me, regarding food: Italian cuisine!”

Nives smiled, amused, and nodded.

They had their coffee chatting pleasantly; it was around 8.30 when a yawn escaped Richard.

“Sorry”, he muttered, “I slept on the plane, but the jet lag is nonetheless taking its toll…”

Margaret stood up and began collecting the cups on the tray.

“Well, better you go get some sleep, both of you”, she exhorted them, “You, too, are surely tired”, she added, looking at Nives.

It was a prompt, to give them an excuse to spend some time together; she knew Richard and Nives hadn’t seen each other for three months and she could well imagine how badly they wanted one another. After all, she could still recall the love marathons she did with John when they were newly-weds, and she wasn’t so much of an hypocrite to deny the younger couple the same delights she and her husband had enjoyed.

Nives and Richard said therefore goodnight and retired; when the elderly spouses remained alone, they headed for the kitchen to rinse the coffeepot and the cups.

“They’re truly a fabulous couple”, John observed. Margaret nodded:

“Yeah. I’m so glad for Richard… I’ve never seen him so happy with a woman. Nives is truly special… she has to be, to impress him so greatly: he behaved in such an unusual way, as he has told us: inviting her in his dressing room and then asking her for a date and staying with her all day long… and finally take and go to Venice, practically putting himself in her hands…”

“She must have inspired a great trust in him; knowing our son, that’s not an easy task”, John commented. Again, Margaret nodded:

“I know. As I know he’s rarely mistaken in judging a person…” she turned to her husband, “Oh John, I so much hope he’s truly met the woman of his life! He deserves to be happy, he’s such a good and sweet boy…”

John recognised in this sentence all the hopes of a mother for her son’s happiness; Margaret had never proved jealous of the women Richard and Chris, their elder son, had taken home, hoping for each of them to be the _right one_. Their firstborn had been lucky: his third girlfriend, Susan, had become his wife, and now they had a beautiful nine-year-old son named Abe; while Richard had turned 43 without finding his partner. Now this Italian girl had showed up and Margaret hoped with all her heart that this would be the one; too bad she lived so far away… but as long as her son was happy, she was okay with that.

John grasped her hands in a reassuring gesture:

“I think so, Meggie”, he said, using the short for Margaret he used to call her in their moments of tenderness, “Richard is deeply in love with her and I think she, too, loves him as much. Either of them is a teen anymore, unaware of what truly loving someone means, they’re both grown up people who had even bad experiences and if now they had found one another, they’ll do anything to make their relationship work. They won’t throw it away at the first sign of trouble like so many immature youngsters do.”

Margaret felt reassured by John’s quiet confidence. She nodded slowly:

“Yes, I think you’re right.”

OOO

Once in their bedroom, Nives exhorted Richard to use the bathroom first, thinking that so he could go to sleep at once, as he was tired; however, when she returned after having freshened up, to her surprise he was in bed, but well awake and reading something on his tablet.

Richard was absorbed in the last story Nives had sent him, which she had translated for him; it was a compelling science fiction short story, set in a hospital planet during an intergalactic war. Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned his head and saw Nives on the threshold, wearing a romantically sexy, lavender tulle-and-lace teddy; the tablet fell from his hand as he looked at her from head to toe, finding her both charming and seductive.

“God, Nives… your _gorgeous_ …” he whispered hoarsely, “Come here…” he invited her, pushing the coverlet aside.

Under his scorching gaze, Nives felt hotness radiating from the centre of her being, physically as well as metaphorically. She hesitated one moment:

“I thought you were too tired…” she murmured, sorry to keep him from sleep. Actually, she had counted on finding him already asleep; she didn’t want to be provocative, but she had brought no other nightwear.

“Tired, yes”, the British actor confirmed, a naughty spark in his pale eyes, “but never _too much_ , for you…”

Nives neared the bed.

“Didn’t you have enough for today, with this morning’s two _matches_?” she asked with a grin, lying down beside him. Richard placed the tablet on the nightstand and turned again to face her.

“Enough? Are you kidding me? I can never get _enough_ of you…” he claimed, pulling her into his embrace and caressing one of her breasts. Feeling his thumb brushing her nipple, Nives shivered in pleasure.

“As I can never get _enough_ of you”, she admitted, snaking her arms around his neck. Richard bent down and placed his mouth on hers. Nives parted her lips instantly to welcome his kiss, stroking his tongue with hers; she always craved his kisses and caresses, not so much for the physical pleasure they gave her, but rather for the sentimental and emotional pleasure.

Richard kissed her long and deep; he adored kissing her, touching her, feeling her quiver under his hands, aware that her trembling was in her body as much as in her soul.

“I love you”, he whispered on her lips, before kissing her again. When he left her mouth to descend on her neck, he heard her gasping:

“I love you too, Richard… only the Goddess knows how much…”

He nibbled at the delicate skin of her throat, where he felt the frenzy pulsing of her heart; then he went further down, on the soft mounds of her breasts, and took one hard bud in his mouth, brushing it through the thin lace.

Nives whimpered: she was in heaven, like each time Richard pampered her; he was a fantastic lover, but it wasn’t so much his skill in giving her pleasure to send her into bliss, rather than the evidence of his feelings for her. However, there was something disrupting the perfection of this moment and suddenly she realised what it was: she was aware he was tired, whether he admitted it or not. She decided to take matters into her own hands.

She managed to gather enough willpower to pull away from the sweet torture Richard was inflicting her; confused by her unexpected reaction, he raised his head to look at her and she smiled at him reassuringly, then she pushed him back on his pillow, gently but firmly, and began nipping at his chest.

“Hey…!” Richard protested.

“Hush”, she exhorted him, brushing his nipple with her lips; at the same time, she closed her fingers around his male rod, caressing his whole length; she felt him jumping and heard him uttering a low groan of pleasure, “I don’t want you to wear yourself out”, she murmured, switching to the other nipple, “Leave it to me…”

She freed him of his boxers, then she lowered herself along his muscular body, admirably in shape as the script of his current job required; feeling her long hair brushing his skin, Richard shuddered, then he shuddered harder when he felt her lips closing around his stiff virility.

“Oh baby… you’re incredible…” he panted. She couldn’t help but smile, pleased and proud of herself: she adored pleasuring Richard, and hearing him expressing how much he liked it filled her with satisfaction.

“Thank you”, she murmured, before devoting herself entirely to him. She caressed him with all her skill, using hands and mouth, making him groan louder and louder.

Richard couldn’t think coherently anymore while Nives was stimulating him to an unbearable point; pleasure grew at vertiginous speed, until he exploded. At the peak, his vision dimmed and, with a muffled cry, he threw his head backwards, clutching the sheets in his hands.

Nives held him until his spasms subsided, then she left him. She looked at him askance, his eyes closed, his lips parted on his wheezing breath, and felt immensely proud and grateful; proud, because she knew she could satisfy him so completely, and grateful, because of the deep feelings of love they shared.

Slowly, she climbed Richard’s long body and cuddled next to him; he smiled, his eyelids still closed, and used one arm to press her to him.

“You killed me softly”, he whispered, “I know, because I’m in paradise…”

She chuckled, pleased.

“Happy I took you there”, she purred in his ear. The actor turned his head and opened slowly his eyes to look at her; in his gaze lingered all the languor of completion, but also of weariness.

“Your turn…” he whispered, despite everything keen to return the pleasure he had enjoyed.

“Later”, she stopped him, kissing his lips lightly, “Sleep now.”

“Wake me up in a little while…”

His voice trailed off as he fell asleep. Nives smiled to herself: she would let him sleep as long as he needed, she didn’t even dream of waking him up to make him satisfy her. The wait would simply make her enjoy his ministrations even more.

She moved cautiously as to not disturb him and turned off the light, then she got back lying beside him, covering both with the light quilt, and prepared for sleep.

(*) Range of hills in central England, most of them in Gloucestershire, renowned for their scenic beauty.


	3. Chapter III: Sunday, April 5th, 2015: morning

**Chapter III: Sunday, April 5 th, 2015: morning **

Richard awakened slowly; a little bewildered, for a moment he didn’t realise where he was, then he felt Nives’ soft body against his side and everything came back to him: he was at home, in the very place he was born, and next to him he had the woman of his life.

The room was dark; surely it was still night, even if a faint light behind the curtains suggested that dawn was not far away. He had slept many hours and felt rested; then he wrinkled his forehead: he had asked Nives to wake him up after a while because he wished to return the pleasure she had given him, but she didn’t do so. Maybe she had fallen asleep without knowing it, but the fact that the light had been turned off indicated that she had done in on purpose instead, to let him rest. His heart swelled out of love and automatically the tightened his grip around her. Then he stiffened, afraid of having disturbed her, but it was too late because he felt her moving and heard her whispering:

“Richard…?”

“Hush”, he murmured in her ear, “Sleep, it’s still early.”

But she, too, had had enough sleep, as she had fallen asleep soon after him; she slightly stretched in his arms.

“Mmmhhh… _who sleeps doesn’t catch fish_ , my grandmother used to say…” she quoted, translating literally, because she didn’t know the equivalent in English; but Richard nonetheless guessed the meaning.

“Ah… here it’s _you snooze, you lose_ ”, he chuckled. She had been right, the night before, when she had said that literal translations of proverbs have often a funny result, except finding out that saying sometimes are not much different in different languages, like _going to Rome._

Nives reached over and searched for the switch of the bedside lamp, turned it on and then rolled back to Richard.

“ _Buongiorno, amore mio_ ”, she said in Italian, kissing him lightly on his lips, “ _Hai dormito bene?_ ” (*)

Of course he couldn’t understand the second part, so she translated it immediately.

“ _Sì, molto bene_ , (**) with you by my side”, he answered, half in one idiom, half in the other, kissing her in turn, “But now I don’t want to sleep anymore...” he tightened his hold on her, “Why didn’t you wake me up, yesterday night? I wanted to return the _favour_...”

“You were simply too tired...” seeing him frowning and preparing a vigorous protest, she placed one finger on his lips to silence him and smirked at him impishly, “And anyway, this gives you the perfect excuse for make it up to me...”

Richard’s scowl levelled and his lips curled into his characteristic grin.

“Ha, it was all a set up then”, he joked in a low voice, then he took her lips in a passionate kiss.

Nives returned it with equal passion, slightly dazzled; true, the night before she had suppressed her longing for him, but she was amazed that a single sentence and kiss would be enough to make her burst into flames again. But every time was like this: her hormones went haywire with a certain look in those fair eyes, an allusive sentence of that deep voice of his, a slightly risqué caress... The truth was that their bodies were made to be together as much as their souls, and therefore they sought each other all the time.

Feeling her reacting warmly to his prompt, Richard cupped one breast with his hand, stroking it through the lace of her teddy; then he moved aside the straps, uncovering her, and stooped to kiss her soft feminine mounds. He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked gently, caressing it with his tongue, and he heard Nives moaning in the way he liked best. Suddenly yearning to touch her intimately, he pushed the covers aside and lifted the tulle of the teddy, then slipped one hand under the seam of her knickers, brushing the dark curls that adorned her femininity. With satisfaction and thrill, he felt her parting her legs for him and so his fingers descended on the spot of her pleasure, brushing it skilfully and eliciting another whimper from her. He moved slowly along her body, placing kisses on it while taking off her knickers; then, he removed his fingers and placed his lips instead. He heard her uttering an exciting groan that sounded like music to his ears.

Nives felt his tongue parting her like a flower, and then making its way inside of her. She gasped in pleasure, breathless, and rotated her pelvis in order to facilitate him, completely unashamed because he was able to make her lose all inhibitions.

Delighted, Richard tasted her deeply, making her wriggle more and more convulsively on the bed; at last, he took pity on her and, with a satisfied smirk, he pulled back and lied down on her body. Nives’ eyes were shut and her lips parted on her laboured breath.

“Look at me, Nives...” he invited her with a low and husky voice. She opened her eyes, foggy with desire, staring at his, and so he slid into her, filling her slowly; he adored her looking at him while he made her his.

Nives moved to enclose him in her arms, but the lowered straps of her teddy hindered her, so she impatiently slipped off them and finally embraced him, holding on to him; still not completely content, she raised her knees and hooked her ankles behind him, making him sinking inside of her even deeper.

“Oh God, Nives”, Richard wheezed, breathless; he began moving within her, “You’re fantastic...”

“You too...!” she gasped; she felt him rubbing the magic button of her pleasure, once, twice, thrice, and threw her head back, “Oh Richard...!”

She felt a wave of heat, followed by other ones, more and more intense and lasting; the feeling grew vertiginously, going higher and higher, leaving her each time yearning for more, until she exploded; reaching the top, she arched her back and uttered a muffled moan.

Feeling her depths quivering around his virility, Richard was irresistibly swallowed by a vortex of pleasure; with one last forceful thrust, he let himself go and joined Nives in the ecstasy.

When the wave of the mutual enjoyment subsided, they held on to one another, as usual reluctant to part.

“You make me lose my head, every time”, Richard whispered in her ear, “With you, my British self control goes out of the window...”

She giggled, flattered.

“You, too, make me lose my head, every time”, she whispered back, then she giggled louder. Richard propped on one elbow to look at her:

“What is it?”

“I just recalled an old movie named _No Sex Please, We’re British_...” she looked at him with a naughty expression, “I can officially deny that Englishmen are little interested in the topic...”

He grinned, amused.

“And I can officially confirm that the Italian women make love wonderfully well”, he claimed, with a slightly husky and even more than usual sexy voice. Nives blushed because of the compliment.

“Thank you...” she said softly. He kissed her tenderly.

“No, thank _you_ ”, he replied quietly, “Thank you for coming to see me at the Old Vic, for taking the trouble of returning a second time to the stage door, for coming into my life...” he kissed her again, this time with a kind of urgency, “Gosh how much I love you, Nives!”

“I love you too, so very much, Richard...” she said, stunned; she looked at him, disquieted by the sudden anxiety she was perceiving in him, “What is it, love?”

He slowly shook his head.

“I just realised how close it was that we never met... if Lorraine hadn’t encouraged you to come to London, if you hadn’t come back the following night on her suggestion...”

A lump grew in Nives’ throat.

“I, too, thought about it, many times... but when it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be, and as we _had_ to meet, if it hadn’t happened on that night, it would some other time, I know for sure”, she smiled, “I’ll never stop thanking Lorraine, she was our _meeting angel_...”

“Yeah, that’s right”, Richard confirmed, “and I realise only now I have never thanked her adequately. Perhaps next time I come to Italy, we should see her again, uh?”

“Sure, she’ll be happy to meet you again”, Nives accepted, enticed by the prospect of seeing again her Venetian friend, who had involuntarily helped making her fangirl dream coming true.

OOO

They went downstairs to have breakfast a little before 8 o’clock, but they found the table already set and Margaret busy with taking from the fridge eggs, bacon, sausage, milk, orange juice, tomatoes, boiled beans and cookies.

“You look very pretty, Nives!” the elderly lady welcomed her; Nives was sporting a short sleeved dress, purple streaked with dark blue and red, highlighting her lovely shape.

“Thank you!” Nives answered, blushing; she had received already Richard’s _warmest_ compliments, which of course had pleased her much, but Margaret’s pleased her even much, “May I help you?” she offered.

“Oh, dear, that’s very kind of you, and yes, if you please would make some tea and coffee and bring them to the table along with the orange juice, I’d be very grateful… but only if you’re very careful not to ruin that beautiful dress of yours.”

“Of course, I’ll be careful”, Nives assured her.

“I’ll take care of the coffee”, Richard said, busying himself with the coffee maker. He showed Nives where she could find the tea bags and she took a box from a cabinet, containing at least a dozen types.

“Which do you prefer for breakfast, usually?” she asked, uncertain.

“Well, let’s think… _English Breakfast_ or _Prince of Wales_. _Earl Grey_ , too, but we had it yesterday”, Margaret listed, then she smiled at her as she heated up a pan, preparing to fry the eggs, “Choose what you like most, dear.”

Nives considered the bags.

“It’s been a long time since I had _Prince of Wales_ ”, she revealed, taking a bag and looking quizzically at Margaret. The older woman nodded, approving her choice.

“Make three, then, please: you, John and I”, she said, “Richard always favours coffee.”

“Where’s dad?” Richard enquired, loading the coffee maker.

“He’s shaving, he’ll join us soon”, answered his mother, then her eye fell on her son’s wrist, “What a beautiful bracelet, is it new?”

“Nives’ present”, Richard announced, stretching his arm out to her so she could see the bracelet better. Margaret, who hadn’t noticed it the night before, watched it with appreciation:

“Compliments for your taste, Nives”, she then said, “Truly a beautiful thing.”

“The master goldsmiths of Vicenza are famous”, Nives told her, “and their works are considered among the best in the world.”

“As much as the master ceramists of Nove”, Richard added with an allusive smile. Nives needed a few moments to connect this statement with the present she had given him in September, when she had gone to see him at the Old Vic. She smiled back to him, glad he recalled this detail.

“True”, she confirmed. In this regard, she had a surprise in store for Margaret, but she remained silent as not to ruin it.

“How do you prefer your eggs, Nives?” Richard’s mother asked her, “Fried, scrambled, soft-boiled?”

“Fried, thanks…”

They brought to the table the food Margaret had made, and at last, even John came in, so they took their seats and began breakfasting.

“Did you sleep well?” Richard’s father asked, looking to the younger couple.

“Yes, thank you”, Nives answered, while Richard, too, nodded, “The sheets are incredibly fragrant, is it the detergent or the softener, Mrs Armitage?”

“A new lavender-scented softener”, the older woman answered, pleased, then she turned to her son “Didn’t you smell it, Richard?”

“Ah... no, I’m sorry, I fell asleep as soon as I got between the sheets...” his mother cast him an amused glance that cut him short, “Well, what is it?” he asked, foreboding trouble.

“ _Between the Sheets_...?” Margaret chuckled. Her tone left no doubt about the fact she was referring to the homonymous TV miniseries he had performed in, where he appeared repeatedly in his birthday suit, in quite risqué sexy scenes. Richard looked typically _adorkable_ and Nives had to place one hand on her mouth as not to burst out laughing loudly. Her reaction attracted Margaret’s attention:

“Ha, you know that series, I see... What did you think, when you saw my son’s naked bum?”

In her voice quivered a laugh, indicating clearly she was having fun at Richard’s expense. John, too, was barely holding back his hilarity and the British actor felt surrounded.

“Mom!” he blurted out, “I told you, it was a double...”

Actually that wasn’t true, but when he had watched the first episode of that series with his mother, she had felt so much upset at seeing him naked having sex, even if just pretending it on set, that, in order to soothe her, he had told her he had used a double.

Margaret shook her hand to call off his protest:

“Leave it, Richard: I gave you birth and I can recognise you naked bum... I thank you for trying to protect me – I admit I was rather upset – but after years, it doesn’t affect me anymore”, she turned again to Nives, “So, my dear, I was asking you what you thought...”

“Let’s just say I... appreciated the sight”, the younger woman chuckled. At this point, Richard was clearly at the height of embarrassment and they all burst into laughter.

“Your mother and your fiancée joined forces against you, son... you’re cooked!” John cried, wiping tears of mirth.

“Dear me…” Richard grumbled, but he was beginning to enjoy it; he was especially glad to see mother and fiancée going along so well.

“Thanks”, Margaret said, answering Nives’ remark, “I take part of the credit, because I was the one who made this handsome big boy...” she looked smiling at her husband, “of course, with the cooperation of this other handsome big boy.”

John returned affectionately his wife’s smile, then he turned to Nives:

“I, too, was quite embarrassed seeing my son – let’ say – _undressed_ , the first time”, he confided her, “but then I got used to it. I realised it’s just work, just acting, and that it’s not easy performing this kind of scenes with naturalness when you’re in the spotlight and dozens of people are staring at you.”

“Precisely”, Richard confirmed, recalling Nives telling him more or less the same words, “The worst thing is when you have to repeat it several times until the director is satisfied, and each time you have to make it look fresh like the first. Then maybe it happens that there’s no feeling with your partner and so it’s twice as hard, like when in _Spooks_ I had to make goo-goo eyes at Geneviève O’Reilly... I swear, it was challenging! Not that she was unpleasant or such, simply there was no chemistry...”

“Actually, I never liked that couple”, Nives confessed, “but so far I hadn’t realised why...” she made a fake threatening face and pointed one finger at him, “You better not have _too much_ chemistry with your female partners...”

“Whoa, I shouldn’t have mentioned it”, Margaret said, feeling torn between amusement and worry. Nives beamed at her:

“No, no, Mrs Armitage, I’m just making fun of the reputation of jealousy that goes with us Italian women. Even if it’s true that I’m not exactly happy seeing Richard hugging and kissing another woman, I am well aware that it’s only acting and that with me it’s something entirely different...”

She broke off because Richard grasped her hand and brought it to his lips:

“True, it’s something entirely different because I love you and, for this reason, I will never have as much chemistry with anyone as I have with you...”

John looked at Margaret:

“These two young people are so lovely, aren’t they?”

His wife returned his gaze:

“Simply beautiful”, she confirmed softly.

Richard ate heartily, while Nives, even if she adored English breakfast, chose to hold back because she knew that a big lunch was ahead.

“Yesterday you didn’t comment on my coffee”, Richard observed, talking to his fiancée and looking at her quizzically.

“Drinkable”, she answered concisely and at his alarmed stare, she burst into laughter, “Come on, I’m just kidding! Even if it’s not Italian espresso, I like it… honestly!” she added more forcefully, seeing he wasn’t very convinced.

John looked at her, not hiding his perplexity:

“As an Italian, you should love better coffee, instead Richard tells me you prefer tea, and I see you have it plain, truly very English-style… while he prefers coffee!” he concluded, pretending to glare at his son.

Nives laughed:

“I told him as much in Windsor, the first time we went out together!”

“I remember it well”, the British actor smiled, “but we agree on chocolate, and we actually ended up drinking one…”

Nives looked at him with starry eyes, recalling the feelings that had followed in row during that incredible day; noticing her gaze, Margaret shelved definitively the last bits of doubt – if she still had some – about the sincerity of Nives’ feelings for Richard.

They finished breakfast, then helped Margaret clearing the table. Nives offered to help her further, but the older woman refused:

“Stay with Richard, you already don’t see each other that much”, she exhorted her, “There’s John helping me. You go for a walk, or for a chat in the garden enjoying the sun.”

Nives appreciated her thoughtfulness and followed her suggestion. With Richard, she decided to take a walk into town, so that the British actor could point out for her the places of his childhood; it was a little chilly – after all, they were just at the beginning of April in central England – therefore Nives donned the jacket she had brought, then they exited.

“Huncote counts less than 2000 inhabitants”, Richard told her while passing through the pedestrian gate, “Basically, everybody knows everybody, or nearly so. An advantage, if you think that by virtue of the fact they have known me since I was a little child and then a teen, they haven’t changed their attitude to me after becoming a celeb…”

Almost as a proof for his affirmation, a passer-by on a bicycle – a corpulent elderly man with a bushy grey beard – cast him a:

“Hey Richard, welcome back home! Happy Easter to all your family!”

“Thanks Mr Robertson, Happy Eastern to you, too!” Richard answered smiling, “There, you see? That was the janitor of my primary school…”

They strolled by an ochre-yellow house, in which garden a blonde woman in her early forties was watering her roses.

“Hullo Richard, you come home once in a while, huh?” she greeted him cordially.

“Hullo Gladys, how are you?” he answered, but without stopping.

“Fine, thanks, and you too, I see” the woman nodded, “Happy Easter, to your parents too”, she concluded, returning to her watering.

“Sure, and Happy Easter to you and your family”, Richard reciprocated, “That was a classmate of mine”, he explained to Nives while walking on, “She was a true bookworm…”

They turned into another street and soon after they arrived at a school building.

“This is my primary school”, Richard announced, “And there you can see my classroom”, he added, pointing to one corner of the edifice.

Arm in arm, the couple promenaded on, walking slowly. The passers-by greeted Richard friendly, but didn’t approach him, respecting his privacy and acting with great discretion. Only an elderly lady stopped for one moment to stare at them appreciatively, then she turned to the British actor in a familiar tone:

“You’re truly handsome and elegant, and your fiancée is charming, you’re a wonderful couple.”

“Thank you, Mrs Noland”, he answered for both, smiling at her, “Happy Easter, and please give my greetings to your husband.”

“Happy Easter to both of you, thanks.”

“Mrs Noland and her husband owned the only pub in Huncote”, Richard told Nives while they went on walking, “Now their daughter runs it, along with her husband.”

It was almost noon when they returned at the Armitage’s; in the driveway, behind Richard’s rented car, a white SUV had parked.

“Oh, Chris and his family are here”, Richard said, walking faster in his impatience to see his older brother. Nives had almost to run and, noticing it, he immediately slowed down, casting her a contrite glance: sometimes, he forgot his height and the subsequent length of his legs.

They entered and a juvenile yell greeted them at once:

“Uncle, Uncle!!!”

A dark-haired boy around nine years old ran towards them, open armed, and Richard stopped quickly to welcome him.

“Abe! You’ve grown a lot!” he cried, hugging him. The boy hugged him in turn, laughing happily, then he pulled back and stared at Nives, who was standing next to the actor.

“You’re Uncle Richard’s fiancée, aren’t you?” he asked her. Nives noticed he had the same pale blue eyes and the same nose of his grandmother and his uncle, and thought that he, too, once grown up, would be very successful with the other sex.

“Nice to meet you, Abe”, she said, stretching out her hand to him as if he was an adult, “I’m Nives.”

He grasped her hand and shook it with a surprising firmness.

“My pleasure, Nives. It was about time that Uncle Richard found a fiancée”, he declared with the typical candour of childhood.

At that moment, a tall and reddish-brown haired man came in; he looked a lot like John, as much as Richard looked a lot like his mother.

“Richard, little brother!” he exclaimed, hugging him. After exchanging some pats on their backs, laughing, Richard introduced Nives; a moment later, she found herself literally wrapped in a bear-hug, as her _brother-in-law_ possessed a much more expansive character than his younger brother.

“I couldn’t wait to meet you!” Chris declared enthusiastically, “I was afraid that my brother would stay a bachelor forever!”

“Tha… Thanks!” Nives stuttered, pleasantly surprised by this welcome, “I, too, am glad to meet you…”

“You’re prettier in person than in photo”, Chris went on, and then he turned to Richard, “You’ve got good taste, little bro, no doubt about it!”

Richard just smiled, pleased, and regarded his woman with a love-struck gaze.

“C’mon”, Chris exhorted them, “Knowing that Italians use to have aperitif, Susan just finished preparing _sangria_.”

Nives didn’t point out that _sangria_ was actually a Spanish beverage and not Italian: it would be rather rude, considering that her _brother and sister-in-law_ wanted only to please her.

Entering the sitting room, they found a beautiful blonde woman who was placing a tray full of appetisers on the coffee table. Spotting them coming in, she straightened and turned to them; she was the classic English beauty, blonde with blue eyes and a porcelain skin.

“Hi”, she said, crossing over to them, “I’m Susan”, she introduced herself, smiling and stretching out her hand to Nives.

“Nives”, she reciprocated.

“Nice to meet you! Please, help yourselves…”

As she approached the coffee table to pour herself a drink, Susan greeted Richard warmly; after handing a glass of apple juice to Abe, she turned to Nives:

“I was really eager to meet you”, she told her, “John and Margaret spoke about you in very enthusiastic terms, after the London première.”

“Really?” Nives murmured in a thrilled tone; Susan caught it and understood the reason of her parents-in-law’s fervour; she, too, liked this Italian woman, she decided.

“Tell me”, she said in a confidential tone, “how do you feel, being the fiancée of a famous actor like Richard?”

“Exposed”, Nives answered grimacing, “Under constant judgement.”

Susan nodded with an air of understanding:

“I can well imagine that there are fanatics throwing dirt at you… for anything you do or say, and anyway you dress or make up, you’ll never be enough lovely or smart for their idol, am I right?”

“You hit the mark”, Nives confirmed sighing, “In the eyes of the Armitage Army, I’ll never be enough for Richard…” she cast a quick glance to the actor, who was chatting with Chris and Abe, “even if yesterday, during an interview we had for the _Sunday Times_ , he said that I’m enough for him, and so he’s sure his fans will be happy with this”, she shrugged, “But I don’t expect such good grace…”

“There will always be some fanatic girl who’ll pick on you”, Susan observed, “but you can be sure that, even if you were beautiful and famous like Nicole Kidman or Rachel Weisz, such crazed fans won’t spare you vicious criticisms. Don’t heed them and keep on holding your head high!”

“Susan is perfectly right”, Margaret reiterated, as she came and heard her daughter-in-law’s last sentence, “Don’t heed the spiteful remarks, those people are just jealous because they’d like to be you. To hell with them, you just enjoy your love story!”

“You’re right, Mrs Armitage”, Nives agreed, nodding, “I certainly will…”

But actually, she wasn’t really convinced: in her head, she knew well that the two women were absolutely right, but in her guts, she still felt hurt when she read or heard some gratuitous nastiness about her for the only reason she was with Richard.

John, too, had come in, and had joined his sons and grandson. Now he turned away from them and approached the women.

“What are you up to, my lovely ladies?” he asked in a cheerful tone, “Or are you keeping us from you secrets?”

“We were talking about the storm of jealousy Nives has risen in Richard’s fandom”, Susan replied promptly, “and Margaret and I were exhorting her to ignore the desperate fans who are cruelly throwing crap at her just because they’re envious.”

“Oh goodness”, John muttered, frowning, “those people love talking just because they’ve got tongues, but forgetting to connect them to their brains!”

His terminology was so comical, that Nives burst into laughter, and Susan and Margaret joined in, attracting the other men’s attention.

“What’s so hilarious?” Richard asked, getting near Nives. She smiled at him:

“Your family is giving me a great moral support”, she answered, “regarding the difficulties I’m facing in the interaction with the legions of your female admirers.”

“ _Legions_?” Richard grinned, “That’s too much…”

“Not at all”, Nives contradicted him, “Don’t tell me you’re not aware you’ve got tens of thousands fans… just look at how many followers you’ve got on Twitter!”

“Alright”, Richard yielded, then he sobered again, “but if you face difficulties with my fandom, you must tell me and I’ll take care of it”, he exhorted her, “I won’t tolerate anyone treating poorly the woman I love, even if they’re my fans.”

Nives looked at him, feeling a lump forming in her throat; she swallowed it.

“You’re my knight in shining armour”, she declared, very thrilled, then she looked at the rest of the company, “Mind you, I’m not the classic _damsel in distress_ who needs the help of a hero, but it’s good to know there’s someone willing to get into the game and help you.”

“Well, that’s really a sensible discourse!” Margaret cried vehemently, “I hate those all-out feminists ranting they don’t need men, never and in no case at all. We _all_ need someone, for goodness’ sake – man or woman is irrelevant – and sometimes it happens that a woman needs a man, not another woman, or vice versa. Accepting it doesn’t mean being a weak sissy; instead, refusing it is simply absurd.”

“I totally agree”, Susan asserted. Chris draped his arm around her shoulders:

“I think it takes much more courage asking for help rather than not asking for it”, he affirmed. Richard nodded:

“Yes, because asking for help means admitting our weakness and not everyone has the guts to do it.”

Speaking so, he sought Nives’ hand and grasped it: he remembered perfectly what she had confided him regarding her suicidal thoughts of time past, not so long before she met him, which had him practically forcing her to promise him she would turn to him for anything she might need, serious or irrelevant.

Nives guessed what he was referring to.

“Sometimes it’s not a matter of courage”, she whispered, “You stay silent because you don’t want to upset other people…”

“If I ever learn you haven’t asked for my help because you were afraid of disturbing me, I’ll be very angry, I warn you”, Richard said, at last speaking clearly, even if in a way that could sound just generic.

“Please, guys”, Margaret interjected, “I understand Nives’ point of view: the fact is, we women have difficulties to worry other ones with our problems, and on the contrary, we never hesitate to carry other people’s problems. It’s a very wrong attitude, related to our psychology but also to our education. My mother, for instance, always said that it’s our duty as women to support our men and children, but she never mentioned the reverse, because she had been in turn educated this way; women of my generation have grown up with this kind of mentality and honestly I don’t know why, at a certain point, I changed my mind and educated my sons to support their women, when necessary”, she looked at Nives, “but maybe your mother didn’t, with you…?”

“Oh yes, she did”, Nives affirmed, “but unfortunately what she said wasn’t exactly what she did, because she always solved her own problems alone, without asking my dad for help, except at the very end when health failed her. Therefore, I grew up with the idea that it’s absolutely okay asking for help, but at the same time with a thousand scruples about actually doing it. A terrible contradiction. But before you get angry, Richard”, she prevented him looking at him with a loving smile, “should I need help, I’ll turn to you, I promise.”

“And I’ll do as much”, Susan affirmed, looking at Chris who was still holding her.

“What if I’m the one who needs help?” Abe complained; the adults’ dialog had captivated him completely, but he hadn’t grasped much. Susan looked immediately at her son: 

“For now, you can turn to your dad and me”, she reassured him, “and then to your grandparents and your uncle. One day, when you’re older and with a girlfriend, then you can turn to her.”

“I’ll marry Arwen!” the boy cried, “Because when I grow up, I’ll become Aragorn!”

“Not Thorin?” asked Richard, amused. Abe shook his head:

“No, _you_ are Thorin, and you have already Nives!”

“That’s logic airtight”, the actor laughed. Nives blushed, but no one guessed the implications of this affirmation: actually, Richard had been Thorin, in her Tolkienian fan fiction, and he had fallen for Nerwen the Green, who returned his love, even if their fate wasn’t to be together forever; anyway, Nerwen’s true love was Aryon Morvacor… still performed by Richard!

The big pendulum clock in the sitting room chimed half past twelve.

“Let’s start our lunch”, John invited them. They headed for the dining room and took their seats, everyone except Margaret and Susan who, refusing Nives’ help, took care of the serving.

(*) Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?

(**) Yes, very well.


	4. Chapter IV: Sunday, April 5th, 2015: afternoon and evening

**Chapter IV: Sunday, April 5 th, 2015: afternoon and evening**

Lunch took place in a relaxed and joyful mood, with amusing chatting and hilarious jokes. It was apparent that the Armitage family members went along well and loved each other; Nives felt as much at ease as in her own house.

When lunch was over, Margaret took to the table a half dark, half milk chocolate egg, which she had her preferred cake shop especially made. The surprise it held, intentionally selected for Abe, was a watch, themed _Cars_ , his favourite animated film. The boy was enthusiastic and clasped it immediately to his wrist.

When even dessert was finished, John rose and declared:

“We men will clear the table, okay, boys?”

“Of course!” Chris confirmed, rising in turn, and Richard did as well.

“But…” Margaret began protesting.

“You took care of the cooking, Susan of the aperitif, we of the washing-up”, John cut her gently, but firmly, off.

“And I?” Nives asked.

“Next time…” he made a vague gesture, “Go to the sitting room, girls, we’ll join you soon.”

“Try not messing up everything”, Margaret recommended, but her hilarious tone showed clearly that it was just a witticism.

“Mom, can I go on the swing?” Abe asked.

“Sure”, Susan approved, “but before, go to the bathroom.”

The three women headed for the sitting room and sat on the couches.

“Nives, I watched your interview on Marlise Boland’s blog”, Susan said, “but I admit I’m curious like a cat… Tell me, what was the first thing that struck you, when you met Richard?”

“Oh well…” Nives began, “I must distinguish among different types of meetings, in chronological order: TV, cinematographic and live… So, my first meeting with Richard Armitage dates back a few years ago with the _Robin Hood_ series and what struck me most was… he _didn’t_ strike me!” she giggled at Susan’s incredulous face, “You know, I’ve always been crazy about Robin Hood, therefore I only had eyes for Jonas Armstrong; while Richard played one of the bad guys of the situation and usually I _hate_ baddies. Add to it that I didn’t love much this series, because historically inaccurate, so it ended up that I left it after the first season and watched it never again. Different story with the cinematographic meeting: the first movie of _The Hobbit_ trilogy, Thorin appears on screen, turns to look at Gandalf… and his eyes strike me dead. By the end of the movie, I was madly in love with Thorin and so I surfed on internet looking for information about the performer… finding out he’d been Guy of Gisborne. Of course, in a short time I watched all of his main works: besides _Robin Hood_ , also _North and South_ , _Strike Back_ and _Spooks_. And I loved every single character he’d played. Until last year I learned that Richard would be at theatre in London and I though _how I wish to see him live and possibly talking to him for a moment!_ But alone I wouldn’t have had the guts to do it: I was intimidated by London and also by the fact I was doing something – let’s be honest – quite crazy. In my whole life, I had never done anything like that and I thought it was best suited to a young girl, not to an over-forty woman… but my friend Lorraine – actress and singer – encouraged me, even declaring she would come with me. Then another friend joined us and I ended up in the Old Vic, my stomach a knot as if I was a teen waiting for her idol. And finally, here comes the meeting in person… which I split in two parts: the first, when he arrived on stage, the second, outside the stage door. In the first case, when he passed me right by, less than one meter away, I was impressed by his imposing presence. I knew he was _big_ , but seeing it with my own eyes was… well, I was like this”, she made exaggerate wide eyes, having the other two laughing and laughing in turn, “Then, after the play, while he was approaching, his kindness and his smile struck me. And of course, when he came near me and looked into my eyes, I felt like…” she made another face, as if she was about to faint out of too much excitement, and again they laughed.

Her auto-irony was impressing Margaret favourably; Richard had told her it was one of the qualities he liked the most, in Nives, but seeing her doing it was something else and the result was exhilarating.

“Recapping it”, Nives continued, “what impressed be about him were his fabulous eyes…”

“ _Whose_ fabulous eyes?” Richard’s voice boomed; he was coming in that moment and had heard her last sentence, “Shall I feel jealous?”

He got over to her with a hilariously grim face. Nives turned and smiled:

“Yes… of yourself”, she answered, “I was telling your mother and sister-in-law what struck me about you at the beginning.”

“Oh…” he muttered, sitting beside her, “I think _your_ eyes are fabulous, not mine…”

“That’s a matter of opinion”, she threw him back, lively.

At that moment, John arrived with a tray loaded with cups.

“Someone’s up for coffee? Or tea?” he asked; behind him appeared Chris with two steaming pots, apparently one for each beverage.

Nives opted of course for tea, discovering that the pot actually contained only hot water and that John had brought a selection of infusions.

“Ginger tea!” she cried, reading the label on one of the bags, “Absolutely perfect for digestion.”

“Really?” asked Chris, a little surprised, “I drink it because I like the slightly spicy taste…”

“Nives is a real expert in herbs”, Richard interjected.

“Are you serious?” asked Margaret, very interested, “Have you any remedy for sore eyes? I get them often…”

“I’m no herbalist”, the Italian woman specified, “but true, I’m passionate about herbs and I know many of them, with their effects on health… For eyes becoming sore with sun, dust, seawater or pool water, or just tired from too much reading or staring at a monitor, I’d suggest chamomile. Make a very strong infusion using little water, then add two ice cubes for a quick cooling. Use two cotton balls, soak them and wash your eyes, of course with closes lids; then wring the cotton balls out, just enough they’re not dripping, and place them on your eyes. Stay like that ten or fifteen minutes, lounging in bed or on the couch, maybe listening to some relaxing music. The effect is guaranteed.”

“The humble chamomile”, Margaret considered, “who’d have thought it?”

“Even the humblest herbs have properties”, Nives affirmed, “even fruits and vegetables. For instance, artichokes help purifying liver, mint helps digesting, savoy cabbage curing bronchitis and so on.”

“Really? Fascinating!” Susan was enthusiastic, “There are books where I can find all this information, I guess…”

“Sure; better buying something discussing about herbs of daily use, things you have always at home or that you can get easily”, Nives suggested.

They chatted until evening; at teatime, John fetched more delicious scones Margaret had made, this time with raisin and bilberry, which received a well-deserved success. Abe devoured several, declaring that his grandma’s scones were better than the confectioner’s.

This time, the women cleared the table and then Chris, Susan and Abe took their leave to return home.

“What a wonderful day”, Margaret commented with Nives while she was helping her putting away cups and plates.

“I hope it wasn’t too tiring for you, Mrs Armitage, with all the guests…”

The older woman’s pale blue eyes scrutinised her with a warm gaze in them.

“Thanks for your concern, dear Nives, but I _adore_ having my house full of guests, especially if they’re my sons with their significant other”, she concluded with a smile.

Nives felt a lump in her throat hearing Richard’s mother describing her as his _significant other_. Noticing her emotion, Margaret decided to be honest with her.

“You know, at the beginning I was afraid you were only infatuated with Richard”, she confided, “and that you could confuse him with his characters, his public image, stuff like that. Instead, what you told us today definitively confirmed that you love him for the man he is and not for the idea you have of him.”

Nives nodded slowly:

“At the beginning I was surely only infatuated”, she admitted, “After all, I didn’t know him as a person, but only as an actor; but it didn’t take me much time to realise that the impossible was true”, at Margaret’s perplexed stare, she explained, “that is, that Richard is even _better_ than the idea I had of him”, she sighed, “Actually, I’m still convinced I’m just dreaming, it’s simply incredible that a wonderful man like Richard Armitage – who in addition is my fangirl idol – is in love with me… precisely _me_ ”, her voice cracked, “I’ll never get used to this”, she breathed in conclusion.

Moved by this confession, Margaret brushed her arm.

“I think you feel inadequate…” seeing her nodding, she went on more firmly, “You’re not. You’re not _inadequate_. Maybe you’re not a model, you’re not famous, rich…but you’re _true_. I had honestly enough seeing all those star system _bogus_ girls hanging about my son with the only intent to be photographed with him to have a shred of fame… True, at the beginning I feared you, too, wanted just stay under the spotlight thanks to him, possibly exploiting him to get into the show-business – God knows how many tried – but it didn’t take me long to realise it wasn’t so, at all, after talking to you at the London premiere, and after watching your interview with Marlise Boland”, she smiled again at her, with true warmth, “I’m happy Richard met you”, she concluded.

Nives felt tears welling up in her eyes and wanted to hug this woman who, even if barely knowing her, looked willing to accept her with so much grace, but she restrained herself, recalling the well-known British reserve. She simply touched Margaret’s hand, still resting on her arm.

“Thank you, Mrs Armitage…”

“Oh, enough with these formalities… call me Margaret”, she invited her. Nives felt even more moved:

“Thank you, Margaret”, she repeated, then sighed again, “I’d like you and my mother would’ve got the chance to know each other.”

“Richard told me that, from what you say about her, she was a formidable woman.”

Nives nodded:

“She was… she was indeed. You know, I have to partly thank _her_ , if I met Richard…” at Margaret’s surprised face, she explained, “It was she, who instilled in me the passion for reading, since I was a kid, especially for science fiction. From here to fantasy, it was but a short step. That’s why I got so involved with Tolkien and _The Lord of the Rings_ , and later with _The Hobbit_ and the whole saga of Middle-earth. Therefore, when Peter Jackson shot the first movies, I literally ran to go and watch them; and then, ten years later, he comes and shoots the second trilogy, and it was when I went to watch the first movie that I met Richard. Or better, that I noticed him, as I previously didn’t and I still wonder where on Earth I was looking”, she concluded, laughing. Margaret, too, chuckled:

“Love at _second sight_ , one could say!”

Nives laughed even harder at her witticism.

“You’re _so_ right, Margaret!”

OOO

“So, what do you think of my family?” Richard asked while they were preparing for bed.

They had a very light dinner, because of the abundant meal they had had at lunch, and now they had all retired for the night.

“Absolutely adorable”, Nives answered, “Above all, everybody made me feel completely accepted… instead, they could have had many good reasons to mistrust me”, she commented, recalling Margaret’s words, “I could be a social climber who wants to be with you only because you’re famous, maybe trying to exploit you to get into the star system… or I could see in you your characters and not be truly in love with you, but with them”, she broke off because Richard was curling his lips in his trademark grin, “What is it?”

“But I _did_ tell you they already adored you, didn’t I?”

“True, you told me”, she admitted, “but I was afraid not to be up to their expectations. Normally I don’t give a damn about the others’ opinion, but this doesn’t apply when people whose esteem is important to me are involved, such as you, my parents, and now yours…”

“You will never let me down”, he assured her, and at her sceptical look he reiterated, “I’m not telling you that you’ll never make mistakes, because you, too, are human; I’m telling you that you’ll never try to hurt anyone deliberately, because you’re a decent person. Except, of course, someone would hurt somebody you love… we talked about this in Cortina, remember?” seeing her nodding, he continued, “In this case, however, it’d be just for defence, not offence. That’s why I’m saying you’ll never let me down”, he concluded.

At this point, Nives nodded in agreement.

“For the same reason, you’ll never let _me_ down, either”, she affirmed in a low voice. Richard approached her and took her into his arms; stooping, he murmured in her hair:

“ _Ti amo, mia dolce ragazza italiana_ …” (*)

He said it in Italian, with a nearly perfect accent. Nives pressed herself to his chest:

“ _E io amo te, mio bel ragazzo britannico_ ”, (**) she answered in the same idiom.

Richard lifted her chin to look at her and she lost herself in his sky-blue eyes; the actor lowered his gaze to her lips, then he brushed them slowly with his thumb. Nives parted her lips and kissed his fingertip; Richard lowered his head and placed his mouth on hers in a gentle kiss. Nives melted in his arms, her knees transformed into jelly; she clutched at his shoulders, returning his love-filled kiss. Then he brushed the joining of her lips with the tip of his tongue, more a caress than a request, but she unlocked her mouth, inviting him in. Their tongues met, brushing one another with sweet eroticism.

When their mouths parted, Nives pulled slightly back.

“Give me a minute”, she said with a smile full of promises. Richard returned it with an equal one and let her go.

When she came back into the bedroom, after having freshened up, Nives found him already stretched out on the bed, waiting for her, naked except for his dark blue boxer briefs. She lingered one moment on the threshold, pleasantly surprised; then, with a cheeky grin, she stripped off her dress, dropping it to the floor, and remained with only her underwear – this time black and green – made of bra, knickers, garter belt and stockings. Since she was with Richard, whenever they were together she never used tights, which were by no means sexy, and preferred stockings and garters, even if they were more uncomfortable.

Richard’s gaze slid all over the soft curves she had just unveiled for him; his irises became dark with desire and this was enough reward for her discomfort.

“You’re so beautiful, Nives”, she heard him say with a low and husky voice, “So desirable…”

She stopped beside the bed and pulled up her hair in a sexy move. Richard raised his eyes again and watched her letting her hair drop on her back in long dark tresses, then moving sensually her hips, hinting to a belly dance. Again, his gaze lowered to take in all of her, appreciating each feature of her body; he lingered on her abdomen and, to her surprise, he softly placed there one hand.

“You’re a bit swollen…” he said in a pensive tone; he hesitated, then he looked straight into her eyes, “It’s just a small bump caused by too much food, or could you possibly be… pregnant?”

This gave Nives almost a heart attack.

“No… what are you talking about?” she stammered, “You know I’m on the pill, I’m very careful about it…” her voice trailed off, because she remembered well that Richard, in an interview three or four years back, had explicitly said he would like to become a father; but she was now too old to have a child without risks for her and for the baby, “Why are you asking…? Do you wish… we’d have a baby?”

Her uneasiness was plain; he noticed it and felt sorry.

“Only if you, too, want one”, he declared forcefully. It was true: he _would_ like starting a family with Nives, but only if she, too, wanted it. He knew she was over forty and that at this age giving birth to a child is no picnic.

Nives felt relieved, but not completely reassured. The issue of her age had never been confronted and so far, she had been okay with it, even if she knew that she couldn’t keep from him forever that she was actually a little older than him.

Maybe the moment to tell him had come.

“I never truly wished to become a mother”, she confessed, “and, looking at the way my marriage ended, I’m glad of it. I’d hate putting children through a divorce, even if in this case I would’ve tried to make it as friendly as possible. Now… it’s too late”, she breathed out, looking away.

Richard was perplexed, even if he was aware about the difficulties of an over-forty-years old woman.

“Nowadays, it’s not uncommon that over-forty women undertake their first pregnancy”, he observed softly. He saw her shaking her head.

“Actually…” Nives began, then she had to stop and swallow, moistening her suddenly parched throat, “Actually, I’m much older than forty…” she broke off again and Richard waited patiently, “Oh well, in fact I’m older than you”, she finished hastily. Good, she had finally managed to spill it out.

He didn’t look impressed:

“Really?” he said in a quiet tone, “I never would’ve guessed it…”

“Oh, I know I look much younger than my chronological age”, Nives sighed, “I apologise for not having told you before but… well… I felt ashamed.”

He arched his eyebrows, genuinely surprised:

“What? C’mon, it’s no scandal if the woman is the older half of the couple... and honestly, I couldn’t care less about your chronological age”, he pulled her into his arms, making her lay down next to him, “I’d love you even if you were twenty years my senior”, he declared in a forceful tone, kissing her brow. Nives almost laughed aloud.

“No, well, I’m not _that_ much your senior”, she assured him, “Only four years: in November, I’ll turn 48”, she revealed at last clearly, then her face darkened, “Now you can well understand that at my age I _cannot_ think about having children…”

“Well, we’ll have none, then”, Richard said serenely; Nives pulled back to look at him, on her face both doubt and distress.

“But you would like to have children, I know that much… once you said it publicly…”

“True”, he admitted, “I would _have liked_ having children… but this was some time ago: for me, too, years have gone by and on my next birthday I’ll turn 44. I never wanted to be an old father and now it’s late for me, too. Not so much to father a child – after all, a man needs only five minutes of passion”, at that ironic remark, Nives chuckled, “but then, you have to raise the kids and take care of them for at least twenty years, which would take me to an age of 64. No, better, much better let it be, and I don’t want just reassure you, I _mean_ it”, he concluded in a convincing tone. He felt her relaxing slightly in his arms and guessed she was beginning to believe him; he kissed her brow again, “I love you, Nives… I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Richard… I love you more than ever…” she whispered, lacing her arms around his neck and kissing him. Once more, she wondered how such a wonderful man could be real… and furthermore, how he could be _hers_.

Determined to cancel Nives’ distress, Richard thought about deviating her attention on something light and pleasant. As he has pulled her down next to him, he had noticed she still wore the high-heeled shoes she had on all day.

“What about a foot massage?” he asked, smiling, “I’m very good, you know?”

“Really?” she was surprised and perplexed by what looked to her an unexplainable change of subject.

“Yes yes”, Richard answered; he withdrew and moved down the bed, “I even studied some plantar reflexology…”

He took off her shoes, then began treating her foot, grasping it firmly and turning it in a light torsion, first to one side, then to the other, several times, and then repeated the same procedure with the other foot.

“Relax”, he invited her, smiling. She followed his suggestion and in the next ten minutes, she enjoyed a wonderful massage.

“So, how do you feel?” Richard asked her at the end.

Nives exhaled a satisfied sigh.

“Wonderfully”, she declared, “You’re _truly_ good. Who taught you?”

“At high school I took classes of sports massage”, he told her, “but the teacher was an expert in shiatsu massage and plantar reflexology, too. I found the concept that in our feet there’s a reflection of our whole body very interesting, therefore I wanted to learn a bit of it. I’m not even by far as skilled as he was, but I think I know one thing or two…”

“I’d rather say you know far more things than just one or two”, she assured him, “With those hands of yours, you could make a fortune, you know? More than with movies…” she jested.

“You mean, I chose the wrong profession?!” Richard asked, arching his eyebrow and pretending to be shocked, “So in the end I wasted all these years for nothing…”

Nives laughed at his witticism; heartened by her laugh, Richard came off the bed and rounded it to lay down again; while going, he picked up Nives’ shoes and placed them where they wouldn’t be a danger at tripping over. In doing so, he stooped and unconsciously offered Nives the magnificent show of his butt and muscular legs.

“You truly have a very sexy bum”, she observed in a low voice; she had seen it several times on screen, but live it gave her the hots.

Surprised, Richard straightened and turned; his lips curled in a grin as he noticed Nives’ hungry expression.

“Really?” he murmured, placing his hands on his hips and stretching to his full height, “And… do you like also the rest I have to offer…?”

Nives stared at him leisurely, from head to toe and from toe to head.

“Oh yeah… very much”, she whispered; she lifted her arms behind her head and wriggled in the bed, taking a sexy pose, “I hope you like what _I_ have to offer…” she added, smiling seductively.

Richard felt his mouth literally watering:

“Gosh baby… you… you’re simply gorgeous…”

Nives turned on her side, propping on her elbow, her head resting in her hand.

“Do you really mean it?” she whispered, looking at him from below her eyelashes.

“Absolutely”, he confirmed.

“Then prove it”, she concluded with a mischievous smirk, gesturing him to join her on the bed. Richard’s lips curled in an identical grin:

“Very gladly…”

He hurried to lay himself next to Nives, then he grasped her waist, pushed her back on the mattress and pressed her against him; he lowered his head, brushing her lips with his and then with the tip of his tongue, small touches, light and tempting. She unlocked her mouth, ready for the kiss, but he lingered, nipping at her lips. Frustrated, Nives decided to take her revenge and began tormenting his lips in the same way, until Richard put an end to the game placing one hand behind her neck and pressing his mouth on hers. She was looking forward to exactly this and shoved her tongue between his lips, urging him to the deep kiss both were longing for. The actor responded promptly, brushing her tongue with his in a very sensual way that had both craving for more. Nives felt his excited virility pressing into her belly and rubbed herself against it, eliciting a groan from Richard. His hands slid down her body, and so he discovered she was wearing Brazilians that left half of her lovely buttocks bare. He sighed, pleased, and caressed her, then he squeezed her against his own body; Nives responded lifting one leg and hooking it behind his, pressing the hot centre of her body against his thigh.

Richard tore himself off Nives’ soft lips and bent down to kiss her neck and throat; she threw back her head to facilitate him. Slowly, he lowered one strap on her arm, then he shoved aside the fabric hugging her breast, baring it. Delighted, he saw that her nipple was stiff, yearning for his touch, and his mouth seized it at once, sucking it avidly. Nives quivered and uttered a whimper that sent his heart racing. He adored hearing her moaning like this, knowing that he and only he was the man allowed to give her such great pleasure, a knowledge that excited him and made him proud of himself more than every other achievement in his life.

“Oh Richard…” he heard her whispering. He bared her other breast, treating it equally, while her hands caressed his back, slightly scratching it with her fingernails and making him shiver delightfully.

“Nives…” he murmured against her nipple, before going back at brushing it with lips and tongue. His gravelly voice thrilled her and she felt her throat turning parched.

Wanting to take off her bra in order to caress her freely, Richard moved to unhook it, but he thought it would be sexier beginning from the stockings. He pulled back and took the opportunity to look into her eyes; she had her eyelids tightly closed, but perceiving his gaze on her, she cracked them open. Her brown irises, clouded with desire, took Richard’s breath away.

“I love you, Nives…” he whispered, then he proceeded unhooking the two laces fastening one stocking, removed it and cast it aside; he repeated the manoeuvre with the other one and finally he unhooked the garter belt, sending it joining the stockings on the floor.

Nives had allowed him so far, but now she took the initiative; as soon as he turned to her again, she sat up and placed her hands on his shoulders, making him lay down on his back. Kneeling beside him, she placed her fingertips on the symbol of his masculinity, which apparent exuberance inside his trunks spoke volumes about his desire for her. Richard held his breath as she slightly brushed his swollenness, tracing its contour up and down. Then, Nives slipped her hand under the waistband and wrapped her fingers around his warm and pulsing male sceptre, making him sigh. Slowly, she eased his boxers down his legs, finally dropping the undergarment to the floor; without interruption, she replaced her fingers with her mouth, caressing his whole length with her lips and causing him to utter another lament.

“Oh goodness Nives, you’re _killing_ me…” Richard panted. He felt her pleased smile around his virility, and decided he would payback her. He escaped her lips and pulled her over him, wrapping his arms around her; he unhooked her bra, and rolling her on her back he took it off. As slowly as she had previously, he slipped off her knickers, then he raised his eyes, looking at all of her, avidly. Under his scorching gaze, Nives felt as if bursting into flames; she parted her thighs, revealing her quivering femininity, as shameless as only he could make her and as he had declared he adored her to be.

The dark cloud of curls adorning the centre of Nives’ body attracted Richard’s eyes; his irises turned a darker shade of blue and she felt her depths twisting, imagining what was about to happen. Indeed, Richard bent forward and sensually lapped at her feminine flower, parting its petals to open it up and taste it deeply. Nives uttered a loud moan while feeling him pleasing her this way, equally erotic and sweet; tremors crossed her depths, becoming increasingly intense at the rhythm of the sensual dance of Richard’s strokes.

“Richard, please… I want you…” she begged him. For a long moment, he seemed not hearing her or not wanting to stop, because he lingered on savouring her; but after a few more seconds, he pulled pack, even if with apparent reluctance, placing several soft kisses on her most sensitive spot before balancing himself over her. He hadn’t forgotten he owed her a _favour_ ; but the urgency he had heard in her tone showed him what she really wanted, and he asked for no more than pleasing her.

“You’re simply delicious, Nives”, he murmured, sweeping his tongue across his lips to taste her once more, “Exquisite like vanilla and honey…”

A great heat flared up inside Nives, and not only in a physical sense. She felt Richard pleasurably invading her body, sinking inside of her with firm gentleness, and she welcomed him with a sigh of both pleasure and relief.

“I love you, Richard...” she sobbed, “Oh!” she then cried, feeling him stimulating that special spot inside of her like only he could do.

Hearing her, Richard half-closed his eyes and enjoyed her uncontrollable moans. Even if earlier she had stimulated him unmercifully, he was still far from the top, so he could devote himself to her without having to restrain himself. He propped on his elbows, watching her face, which showed increasingly intense pleasure, and kept moving in the way he knew she liked best.

Nives felt the wave of completion mounting inside of her, stimulated by Richard’s skilful movements; he was intent in loving her not only with his body, but also with his heart.

Richard led Nives along the ways of pleasure, taking her towards the peak. When she climaxed, Nives arched her body and uttered a lengthy moan of delight while intense vibrations crossed her internal muscles, reverberating around Richard with such strength that it hauled him, just moments after her, beyond the point of no return. They trembled together in the culmination of the mutual fulfilment, which was both of body and soul, physical expression of their shared feelings.

Little by little, their tremors settled; panting, they relaxed in the warmth of their embrace. Richard brushed Nives’ lips in a gentle kiss, then the cupped her cheeks; she opened her eyes, finding his face at just centimetres away from hers. She lifted one hand and tenderly caressed his cheek, watching him as if entranced.

“You’re my dream”, she whispered, overwhelmed, “my dream turned to reality...”

Richard smiled lovingly at her:

“You, too, are my dream turned to reality.”

“Your... dream?” she repeated, blinking incredulously, “How’s that possible? You’re a strikingly handsome and famous actor who makes thousands of fans dreaming... while I’m just any girl...”

“...but I was dreaming of you all my life”, he cut her tenderly off, “I dreamed exactly of you, the other half of my soul, and at last, seven months ago I met you”, he kissed her again, “With you, I feel _whole_ ”, he concluded in a low, intense voice.

Nives felt tears welling up in her eyes and swallowed the lump clogging her throat.

“I, too, feel _whole_ with you”, she managed finally to say softly, addressing him a shaky smile. Richard peppered her face with small, tender kisses.

“One more thing”, he then said; at his grave tone, Nives looked at him, slightly apprehensive, “Promise me you’ll never, ever be ashamed of anything, with me.”

The lump in Nives’ throat returned. She swallowed it again.

“I’ll try”, she answered slowly, “As I said before, even if usually I don’t give a damn about what people thinks of me, when it comes to people I care of – and obviously you’re the person I care most in the world – things change dramatically. The reason is that, in the past, someone has blamed, misjudged or even refused me because of an attitude of mine, or a conviction. They hurt me, and therefore I have loads of qualms, often for nothing... like with you about my chronological age.”

Richard loathed those people who had hurt her this way.

“Anyone has the right to express himself or herself freely, as long as he or she does it with respect for the other ones”, he affirmed in a low voice, forcefully, “Knowing your fairness, whoever mistreated you just because you’ve been sincere and spontaneous, behaved like a jerk. As for me, I beg you to _always_ feel free to be yourself. Okay?”

Nives’ heart melted out of love; _this_ was a man, no, a Man with a capital M. Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

Richard gave her a reassuring smile, full of love, then he gently kissed her lips. Nives was so strong, but also so frail, he thought; and he swore in his heart that he would do anything to keep her from being hurt again as she had been in the past.

He pulled away and dragged the duvet over both their naked bodies; then he laid down again next to her, taking her into his arms, and Nives rested her head on his shoulder. They fell asleep, clinging to one another, in perfect bliss.

(*) I love you, my sweet Italian girl.

(**) And I love you, my handsome British boy.


	5. Chapter V: Monday, April 6th, 2015

**Chapter V: Monday, April 6 th, 2015**

“This morning I got an e-mail from my agent, submitting me an interesting proposal”, Richard announced, looking purposely at Nives.

They were sitting with the generous breakfast Margaret had just cooked.

“Really?” she asked, “And what would that be?”

“A convention...”

His mysterious behaviour made Nives suspicious.

“By chance, in Italy?” she therefore asked. He grinned:

“Precisely...”

“So, what will your answer be?” she pressed him.

“What do you think?”

“Me?” Nives was surprised, “It’s _your_ job, you decide...”

“I’ll accept gladly, but only if you, too, come”, he said firmly.

“I’d never miss the first Italian convention about Tolkien for anything in the world!” Nives replied.

“But you shall come as my plus-one, not as an attendee”, Richard said.

Margaret and John had followed the exchange, but they hadn’t really grasped about what it was about, therefore they looked a little forlorn; noticing it, Richard explained:

“An acquaintance of Nives is organising a convention devoted to Tolkien’s works and to the movies Peter derived from them, in December in Milan. I’ll later answer Ronald I’m glad to accept the proposal, provided that I can take my fiancée with me.”

Once more, Nives felt nervous about this choice of words, but tried not to show it: she had each time to remember that the word _fiancée_ was widely used and abused in the show business where, when two are together – even with no strings attached – they are always _fiancés_.

There was a moment of silence while they went on eating.

“So, what are you up to, today?” John asked amiably, taking a sip of tea.

“Yesterday Nives asked me to take her sightseeing other places of my childhood and teenage years”, the British actor answered, “therefore, mom, it you have no special plans, I’d like to take Nives out for lunch.”

“No problem”, the elderly woman declared, buttering a toast, “Just have a good time together!”

OOO

Half an hour later, sporting more casual outfits than the day before, the couple got in the car; they needed just ten minutes to arrive at the Brockington College in Enderby, which Richard had attended for three years before convincing his parents to enrol him at the Pattison College in Coventry for the remaining two high school grades; here, he got dancing, singing and acting classes. Dance – which they had suggested for him as a cure for a problem on one foot – had been the art he had debuted with in the show business, up to taking part, at the age of 23, in a London edition of the legendary musical _Cats_ ; but in the end, he had realised his true aptitude was acting and therefore he enrolled at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts (LAMDA) to study further; from there, he had begun with theatre, moving then to television and film industry.

The college was a modern building, white with large windows and a few red and yellow spots; overall, it was cold and efficient, in no way impressive. The sole good thing was the extensive lawn surrounding the building, and a vast courtyard for recreation.

“Here I met my first crush”, Richard confided her with an amused grin, “Her name was Lauren, she was blonde and the only one who didn’t make fun of me because of my stature… I was fifteen and at the time I was a beanpole with a face which hadn’t still grown into its nose…”

Nives recognised a joke he had made during an interview and laughed.

“Well, your face has grown wonderfully into that superb nose I adore…” she said in a low voice, reminding him what she had declared in London, that is, that she loved his nose very much.

The actor looked at her, his blue eyes sparkling: he still didn’t get it how people could think he was handsome, but he was happy that Nives believed he was.

“And yours? I mean, first crush?” he asked; it wasn’t morbid curiosity, he just wanted to know more about his _sweet Italian girl_.

She shrugged.

“Oh… I was seventeen; his name was Claudio”, she answered, “Contrary to my usual taste, he was blond with green eyes, and was rather brawny. I, instead, was quite chubby and not particularly attractive, and yet he gave me my first kiss… and many years later, when he learned my husband had dumped me, he said that, if I would’ve married him, he would’ve never left me. I was shocked, to say the least…”

“Whoa!” Richard exclaimed, “This means he never forgot you! That’s very flattering, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but sad, too, because maybe, without knowing it, I broke his heart, and all because I was too shy to express myself and perhaps, back then, he thought I wasn’t interested in him…” she shook her head, “Well, perhaps it just wasn’t meant… because I was waiting for you”, she concluded, looking at her man with love-filled eyes. He returned her gaze with an equal one.

There wasn’t much more to sightsee, so they got back in the car and headed for Coventry. The Pattison College was far more remarkable, as it was an ancient noble residence converted into school, surrounded by a large garden full of trees and flowers.

“Here I spent only two years”, Richard told her, “but they were very important years for my education. The founder of the school, Betty Pattison, who sadly died five years ago, always encouraged me. After my parents, she’s been the most influential educator I ever had. In this school I learned not only singing, dancing and acting, but it gave me discipline, self-respect, toughness and strength”, he smiled to go on a lighter tone about a topic he hadn’t meant becoming so earnest, “Mrs Pattison made me perform an elf in _The Hobbit_ at the Alex Theatre in Birmingham, back in 1986.”

“You’ve been an Elf, and then you became a Dwarf for Pete?” Nives laughed, clearly hinting to the well-known animosity between those two folks Tolkien had imagined. Richard laughed in turn.

“I’d love to visit it from the inside”, Nives said, when their hilarity subdued, “Not only this school has been so important for you, but it’s a very beautiful place, too…”

“It is”, Richard confirmed, “Unfortunately, being today a holiday, it’s closed.”

“Yeah, too bad…”

They anyway strolled around the estate, as most of it was enclosed in a wrought-iron fence through which they could see the garden and the building.

When they got back to the car, it was past midday, therefore they headed for the restaurant Richard had mentioned earlier, the Garden Rooms, an around twenty minutes’ drive from the college site.

Richard parked the rented car, then, as usual, he walked around it and opened the door for Nives. Hand in hand, the couple entered into the hall, where the maître welcomed them politely. 

“I reserved a table”, the British actor said, “Richard Armitage.”

“Mr Armitage, it’s a pleasure and an honour to have you here with your fiancée”, the maître declared, “We arranged a secluded table, as you asked us; and don’t worry, our staff is highly discreet and we’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”

“Thank you very much”, Richard answered, relieved: this way, he could be sure they would have their lunch in peace.

The maître called a lady colleague to replace him and led them personally into the elegant dining room, where several customers had already taken their seats. Many heads turned to look at the actor, whose face was familiar, especially in his homeland. Nives, too, attracted many glances and this made her a little uncomfortable.

The maître led them to a corner of the room, where a few niches opened into the walls, furnished with small tables for two or four people. Richard pulled a chair for his lady and waited for her taking her seat, and then he sat down in turn.

“Menus will arrive immediately”, the maître announced, “Meanwhile, can I offer you the aperitif of the house? It’s Nyetimber with a shot of grenadine.”

Richard cast Nives a glance; when she nodded, he said yes.

“What is it?” Nives asked as soon as the maître was gone, as usual curious about anything she was going to taste,.

“The Nyetimber is a sparkling wine, white and dry, produced in West Sussex”, the British actor answered; her eyes widened:

“I had no idea that England was producing wine… I always thought the climate was too cold.”

“There aren’t many, actually, perhaps around twenty, and not even by far comparable to the level of Italian wines”, he told her, “This one they suggested is one of the best.”

“Hum, with the grenadine it’ll be hard to examine for a judgement…” Nives considered with regret.

“No problem, it’s a wine you can easily match with many specialties of English cuisine and we can have it for lunch, too.”

“Well, let’s see before what’s on the menu” she suggested, “then, based on what we’ll have, we’ll choose the drinking”, she smiled at a sudden memory, “Maybe you won’t believe it”, she told him then, “but once I organised a dinner with friends doing the opposite, that is, I began choosing the wines I wanted to taste and have my guests tasting, and only afterwards I chose the food to match them.”

Richard chuckled.

“Someone could call you a contrarian!” he observed. Nives chuckled in turn.

“You need to know that, next to where I live, each year there’s a _dinner of the contrarians_ ”, she told him, “and once I went to it. It was crazy: we started from coffee, then went for dessert, then we had cheese, meat, pasta, appetisers and we finished with an aperitif!”

“Unbelievable!” Richard cried softly, trying not to burst into laughter as not to attract attention on them.

Two waiters came, dressed in white jacket and bowtie; one handed them the menus, the other one served them their aperitifs with a tray full of multi-coloured appetisers.

Nives didn’t even glance at the menu and just looked at Richard, smiling; he took the hint.

“What do you prefer, meat of seafood?” he smiled at her, recalling their first lunch together, at the _Bel & The Dragon_ in Windsor.

“Since we want to try that white wine, I’d go for seafood”, she suggested.

Richard nodded in agreement and briefly studied the menu, then he signalled for the waiter, who approached them with an iPad.

“Have you already chosen?” he asked.

“Indeed: for starters, salmon and crab pie for two…”

“Very good”, the waiter commented, noting the order on the pad, “Something else?”

“Monkfish and king prawns, again for two.”

“Excellent choice, sir. Any vegetables?”

Richard looked at Nives, awaiting suggestions.

“Mixed grilled season vegetables”, Nives said, glancing at the menu, “and mixed salad.”

“Fine. And as for drink?”

“My fiancée is Italian”, Richard stated, “and is quite the connoisseur of wines: she’d like to try the Nyetimber, so please make sure it’s your best.”

“Of course”, the waiter smiled at Nives, who again had felt her heart skip at hearing Richard calling her _my fiancée_. She nodded back to the waiter and tried once more to act nonchalantly, remembering for the nth time that in Richard’s circles all girlfriends were _fiancées_. Thinking of marriage raised conflicting feelings in her: on one hand, she had been so much let down from the previous experience that she had no desire to remarry; on the other, the thought of spending the rest of her life with Richard was terribly enticing…

They chatted pleasurably for several minutes, then the waiter came back with an ice bucket, two champagne flutes and a bottle of Nyetimber Blanc de Blancs, which he correctly presented to Nives, as she was the one who had to taste it. She couldn’t do other than nod, as she didn’t know this wine nor its vintages, and the waiter proceeded to open the bottle, then he smelled the cap and, finding the scent satisfying, he poured her two fingers of the golden, sparkling liquid in her glass. She took it by the stem – never touch the cup as not to alter the temperature – and took a sip, keeping the wine a few moments in her mouth before swallowing it. On her face appeared a pleasantly surprised expression:

“Hints of bergamot and green apples… and an ending sour to the right point, lime rather than lemon: absolutely excellent”, she decreed. The waiter was impressed by her competence and gave her a respectful not of approval, then he filled up her flute and Richard’s. Lastly, he placed the bottle back into the ice bucket and took his leave.

“Here’s to us”, Richard toasted, clinking his glass to Nives’ and looking deeply into her eyes. As usual, she lost herself in his sky blue gaze, but he, too, got lost into her chocolate irises.

“With you, sometimes I feel like someone hit my head”, Richard mumbled with a sly grin.

“Well, I feel like a teenager at her first love”, Nives confessed. He grasped her hand and caressed her fingers, tenderly.

The appetisers arrived shortly after, distracting them; the small puff pastry pies stuffed with salmon and crab were very tasty, as well as the crushed beans and the tartar sauce. Then came the monkfishes and king prawns, served with a light coconut and curry sauce, and chickpea with julienne of raw vegetables; on separate dishes came the grilled vegetables and the mixed salad.

Nives thought the moment had come to talk about the approaching summertime.

“Richard, I’d like to spend my summer holidays with you”, she began, “Unfortunately, as most private sector employees, I get my leave only in August. Do you think you can take one or two weeks off, in that month?”

“Right now, I’m free, in August”, Richard answered, beaming: two weeks with her… wonderful! “And should someone make me a job offer, I’ll make sure to keep that period clear”, an idea came suddenly to his mind, “Shall we say the second and third week, or the third and fourth? So we can celebrate my birthday together!”

“Fabulous idea!” she approved, feeling happy as a clam.

“Do you have plans already?” Richard enquired.

“I love the sea…” Nives answered, a little hesitantly because she was aware of Richard’s water phobia.

“I don’t like swimming”, he said indeed, “an I get easily sunburns, but…” he smiled, “after my experience with the barrels in _The Hobbit_ , I can at least face shallow waters, and as for the sun, I can always put on a sun blocking cream and stay under a beach umbrella.”

Nives returned his smile:

“You’re so sweet to declare yourself willing, but actually any place would be good for me, as long as I’m with you…”

“The sea will be okay”, he reiterated, determined to please her: after all, she had come to Cortina even if she didn’t ski, so he could go to the sea even if he wasn’t a big swimmer.

An idea struck Nives all of a sudden.

“I have the right place: the Elba Island!” she declared; at Richard puzzled look, she explained, “Several famous Italian singers and actors own a house on the island and go there regularly, therefore the Elbans are used to VIPs and don’t heed them much. Now and then, from Sardinia come people like Sean Connery, or Johnny Depp, or Angelina Jolie, even Prince Albert of Monaco. We could rent a detached house with swimming pool, no need to go to the beach; and you can do many other not water-related things, such as hiking, mountain bike or riding along the paths in the woods. Therefore, if I want really badly to go taking a swim in the sea, you’d have other options.”

“Sounds excellent”, Richard approved, “Have you ever been there?”

“Eight times, over the last twenty years, and that says a lot about how much I like it there, considering that every year I usually change destination”, Nives answered smiling, “That’s why I feel like suggesting it to you.”

“Elba Island it is, then”, Richard concluded, “Let me know the exact dates, so I keep clear.”

“As soon as I’m home, I’ll see to the booking”, Nives smiled, already thrilled at the idea to spend her vacations with the man she loved… a dream!

When they finished the second course, the waiter came to clear the table and asked them if they wanted some dessert.

“Sure!” Richard confirmed emphatically to Nives’ amusement. The waiter brought them immediately the dessert menu and this time, they chose two different things: Nives chocolate eclairs with whisky custard, and Richard hot molasses tart with white ice cream and crushed hazelnuts. The waiter suggested a Chilean sweet Sauvignon, which Nives accepted in the absence of an Italian one such as a Sicilian Malvasia or a Tuscan Vinsanto.

When they finished their meal, Richard got the bill and payed for it with his credit card. As they walked towards the exit, out from the corner of her eye Nives glimpsed a blonde woman fumbling around with her smartphone and thought she was taking pictures or even filming them. With a silent sigh, Nives thought that the day after – or even that same evening – imagines of their lunch would go around the world on the various social media and on YouTube. She didn’t tell Richard, but while they were heading for their car, he asked:

“Did you notice that at least ten people shot us photos?”

“Really…? Actually, no; I just noticed a lady while walking out”, she sighed, “Alright, I know it’s inevitable, for an actor of your calibre”, she declared in a humorous tone, but she felt actually a little uncomfortable. She would never get used to the media exposure she had to endure.

When they reached the car, Richard opened the door for her, as usual the perfect gentleman; getting into the station wagon, Nives looked at the British actor:

“You’re spoiling me”, she reproached him mildly. She thought that man and woman were absolutely equal in dignity, but she had no need to pose as the angry feminist to affirm this, and if the man wanted to act as a knight of yore, opening doors and pulling chairs, she didn’t take it the wrong way. The equality affirmation goes through other, much more significant things.

“You’re my queen”, Richard replied, seraphic, bowing over to her to place a feather-light kiss on her lips, careful not to smudge her lipstick, as she had just reapplied it in the lady’s room, “and I treat you consequently.”

He pulled back and closed the door, smiling, then he walked around the car to go and take the driver’s seat.

He was about to start the engine, when he noticed Nives was wiping away a tear from her cheek.

“Oh dear, did I say something wrong?” he worried. She shook her head and looked at him with watery eyes.

“Not at all.. it’s just that no one has ever called me _his queen_ and you know that I’m terribly emotional…”

Richard put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, kissing her brow.

“You’re my queen”, he repeated softly, “The queen of my heart.”

Nives literally melted; screwing the lipstick, she kissed him fervently.

OOO

About forty minutes later, they were back at the Armitage’s house; it was almost teatime and therefore, a little later, they gathered in the sitting room, drinking a cup of a delicate jasmine tea, chatting amiably about this and that. Among other things, Richard told his parents about the holyday project with Nives.

“It’s not easy for you two, isn’t it?” Margaret asked sympathetically, “Be together, I mean… but I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

“Luckily, airplanes exist”, Nives commented, “and Skype and text messages…”

“But nothing is like the physical presence”, Richard affirmed, caressing her hand, “That’s why every occasion we can be together is precious.”

“Well, then I hope that August arrives soon”, John commented, smiling supportively. He remembered well that he, too, at the beginning of his love story with Margaret, wasn’t able to stay away from her too long – not that now was much different – and wondered how these two could endure being apart from one another.

There was a moment of silence, a little saddened by the awareness that the day after they had to part. Nives decided to lighten the mood:

“This morning, while I was waiting for Richard who was taking forever in the bathroom”, he snorted, pretending to be annoyed, and she chuckled, “I was searching around with Google and by chance I came across something that made me laugh: Richard, did you know that in New Zealand there’s a town called _Gisborne_?”

He laughed:

“Yes, I knew that!”

“But I didn’t!” Nives exclaimed, laughing in turn, “New Zealand is a place I want absolutely to go visiting, especially now that there’s a true park in the location where they filmed the movies, in the Hobbiton site… Well then, I’ll go and see this Gisborne town, too!”

“Where’s it located, Nives?” Margaret enquired.

“Wait, I’ll show you…”

Nives grabbed her smartphone and looked for the image she had downloaded, a map of New Zealand highlighting the location of Gisborne, on the eastern coast of the North Island; Margaret smiled, amused.

“Well, Sir Guy”, Nives said, looking at Richard, “it seems that Gisborne still exists. Therefore your title still stands!” she concluded, laughing. He, too, laughed:

“So it seems indeed, Lady Nives…”

“Then, there’s a village called Armitage, about one hour’s drive to the northwest of Huncote”, Nives added, looking at John and Richard and laughing again.

“Gosh, maybe I’m a nobleman and never knew it!” the older Armitage hooted.

“Well, then we’ll start calling you Sir John”, his wife teased him.

“And a town with your family name, Nives?” asked Richard, taken by curiosity.

“No, there’s no Nardini town”, she answered, putting away her smartphone, “But I can tell you that _Nardini_ is a famous brand of grappa and other spirits”, she informed them, chuckling, “I think I’m distantly related with the company owners, but I’m not sure… maybe third or fourth cousins…” she concluded, shrugging.

“Spirits, ha?” Richard snorted, “You’re constantly involved with alcohol… wine, grappa…”

She punched him playfully on one shoulder, while everybody was laughing hard.

OOO

After dinner – again a light meal, as Margaret had guessed they had had a plentiful lunch – the younger couple retired early. Of course, they wanted to rest before the return journey, but also to be alone together as long as possible.

While Richard occupied the bathroom, Nives, who had already freshened up for the night, began undressing. She placed her clothes on the chair, then she unhooked her bra and remained with her knickers only. Giving up her nightwear – which she thought useless – she turned off the main light, leaving only the bedside lamps and creating this way a romantic atmosphere, then she pulled down the quilt. She was just finishing, when Richard returned into the room, hugging her from behind. 

“Hmmmm, you’re waiting for me wearing almost nothing…” he whispered against her ear with that dangerously sexy baritone voice of his, “Temptress…!”

She leaned backwards and felt that he was naked, except for his boxers.

“Hey, you too are wearing nearly nothing…” she observed in a teasing tone. She pushed her hips backwards, rubbing herself against him; hearing him gasp, she smiled secretly.

“You’re a truly naughty girl”, the actor panted.

“One of the things you like about me, if I’m not wrong…” she reminded him mischievously, and then she moaned breathlessly when he brushed her nipples, making them bloom and protruding toward his fingers, searching for caresses.

“You’re absolutely right”, Richard admitted, continuing caressing her sensually, and soon she began yearning with desire. Then, he made her lay down on the bed and freed her from her knickers, taking off his boxer briefs; he stretched out next to her, planning to devote himself on worshipping passionately her body, but she surprised him pushing him back on the mattress and beginning to touch him provocatively, with her hands and mouth. Pleasure overwhelmed him as she caressed him intimately, so he reversed their positions, beginning to kiss and touch her everywhere, not leaving any part of her devoid of his ministrations. He unlocked her heart as well as her body, until she was ready for him; then, he took her, sinking inside of her with his flesh and soul. The universe disappeared, only the two of them remained, physically and spiritually melted in love, breathing and moving in unison, consummating their mutual desire. Pleasure increased quickly, until both touched the sky, flying at vertiginous heights, hurling themselves in the vortex of pleasure sweeping them away like a tornado, fearless because they were together. Richard gasped her name, Nives moaned his, while the spasms of fulfilment were shaking them through and through.

Little by little, they came back to their senses; they parted reluctantly and exchanged several tender kisses. At last, wrapped in each other’s arms, they fell asleep.

The next day they would part to go back to their separate lives, half a world away; being separated from one another was cause for sorrow for both of them, but the prospect to be together for two whole weeks in August would make the wait more bearable. And besides, perhaps they could briefly meet during the filming of _Pilgrimage_ , in Ireland or in the Ardennes…

_Author’s note: Nardini is TRULY a famous Italian liqueur brand LOL_


End file.
